Shadow on the Wall
by Water Solace
Summary: She was a creature of shadow; a being trapped in shade. He was of the light; his very essence was like bright rippling flames. Time after time their paths converged, only for her to remain unseen… and still struggling to be part of the light. (Antagonist OC)
1. Chapter 1

**::I::**

Shattered glass splayed across the dark recesses of the mind. Each piece contained a story, a memory. Some were large and smooth; the memories reflected on the surfaces easy to see, easy to relive, and easy to reconnect. But those soon broke and became like all the other pieces, which were small and jagged shards that could not be touched, and were nothing more than glinting teeth. How was it to be put back together?

The shards were sinking into the black. The colors of the memories were being snuffed out; pulled far, far away. All were gone… except one. One shard of red shone through the darkness.

It started with that one recollection, and that one small fragment of memory pulled to another to form one picture.

Red was the first thing she could recall; red as blood, red as an autumn leaf, red as a blazing sunset. It was outlined from the black, the vast darkness that devoured everything else. And that color, that light, was connected to a person.

Red. It was what dragged her despondent gaze from the floor. His hair was red as the oxygenated blood of life. That color brought her attention to him, but what kept it was his smile. So bright and genuine, so free and unrestrained. She never saw another smile like it. Next were his eyes, clear and glimmering like an emerald sea… yet she couldn't understand the mind behind them.

She stood to the side, back against the wall, as throngs of students passed by. She would not speak to anyone nor meet any eyes that briefly glanced her way. The hallways were long and wide and cold. She'd get lost among the faces, trapped in her own reverie.

When he passed by she would reenter the outside world, pulled by strings of curiosity and confusion. He walked and talked with people so easily. He wore his heart on his sleeve without fear. She couldn't understand how anyone could do that. And he was so nonchalant, so carefree. So different from her.

She would watch him, peering from the corner of her eye as he went by, as he interacted and conversed with different people, until he rounded the corner and disappeared from her sight. She never followed, she wouldn't dare. But if he was around in the halls or happened to be in the same classroom as her, then she would observe his perplexing behaviors.

He confounded her, the one with red hair and a beaming smile, seemingly a being full of light and life.

So different from her…

She was a creature of shadow with a heart hidden deep within. A heart no one could get at, that no one could hurt. A heart that sometimes even she could not reach, so concealed it was. Her hair was dim and dark for a blonde and even in the sunlight she appeared to be in the shade. Her eyes were black like coal and absorbed the light, smothering it, rather than reflect it for the world to see.

She wanted to know how he could wear his heart so openly and how he could shine in the light so freely.

But she never approached, never spoke. She did not know how to go about such things. The very thought of stepping out into the light and saying hello terrified her. Therefore she stuck to observing the red light as it travelled by and past her.

Until one day that changed, one day the light was before her.

It happened in the only class she shared with him. The teacher was incredibly irate and did not appreciate being interrupted whilst he was especially talkative, animatedly discussing with those nearest to him, like he couldn't sit still. She took the scene in from her spot on the back row. She didn't understand why the teacher garnered such offense. He was staying on topic, mostly, occasionally digressing. He blurted out questions or if he remembered to raise his hand spoke his thoughts on the subject without waiting to be called on.

It was plain to see that he preferred interactive learning in place of sit-through lectures. Unfortunately, that particular teacher only dealt in lectures.

The small, narrow eyes of the teacher sparked with indignation, glaring over the wire rim of the tiny reading glasses that rested down on her pointy nose. A gray hair fell from her neatly tied bun as she barked for silence. The quiet stretched on as the lesson continued.

The last straw had been broken when he dared to challenge the methods of the latest problem. The chalk the teacher was transcribing with clacked down into the holder at the base of the blackboard and the gray woman stalked to her desk. The slap of a ruler across the wooden surface brought everyone's attention to the front. That was when the teacher ordered everyone, excluding him, to stand. The instructions were made clear. Every student was to get in a line and one by one they were to tell him what they disliked most about him.

She kept her head down, kept to the back of the crowd. She was last in line.

The comments didn't start out so bad. You're annoying, one said. You're too loud, said another. You're so full of yourself, said one girl with no hesitations. However, it got harsher from there. Any reluctance they had vanished as they followed each other's example, seeing that there would be no reprimand for cruel words. It snowballed from then on and they all followed the pull of gravity. They became more brazen, the verbal knives growing sharper. Some students really ripped into him. Every tongue lashed what they didn't like, or what some downright hated, about him.

Every insult stung her, certain words made her flinch, though she was not the recipient.

She usually wore a neutral face that was marred by neither smile nor frown. That day she frowned openly, her mouth turned down and her brow pinched in distraught.

Yet there he was… smiling through it all.

It amazed her, baffled her mind. But something was different. Something was very wrong. She observed him closely and saw that his emerald eyes were dimming, saw that the smile was strained, forced. She saw the light fading like a candled flame sputtering on the last bit of its wick.

Before she was aware of it she stood in front of his desk. She was the last one, the one who had yet to say anything. He looked her straight in the eye, just like he did with all the others, still grinning. Briefly she wondered what he saw. She wondered what she looked like to him with her black eyes, curtain hair, and clothes colored gray and brown. She was stuck before him, expected to say horrible things.

She always followed instructions, obeyed commands without fail; a little toy solider, ready to march.

However, before the flickering flame she hesitated.

The teacher sighed and she knew she was about to be told to return to her seat, as the rest of the class had already done so. She did not speak often – only when spoken to, only when pushed by an authority figure. It seemed no one had expected her to say anything after all.

But she did.

She could not leave the light to be smothered out.

"There is nothing about you I do not like."

That she said anything at all surprised even her.

"I think you are a very interesting person."

She usually kept her head down, did as she was told.

"You are not too loud, or annoying, or arrogant, or any of those other things."

But that day she spoke freely, of what she believed to be simple facts.

"You are friendly, you are versatile, you are cunning, and you are brave."

However, as she spoke she thought she may have done wrong. He wasn't smiling anymore. His eyes were big and round and his mouth was a straight line. Regardless, she kept on going. It was like an overstuffed closet had finally been opened, and all the jumbled up things fell out.

"I wish I could be more like you, I wish I…"

_I wish I could stand in the sunlight, unafraid…_

"Enough!" the teacher snapped.

"Everything everyone else said…" her tone went from steady to anxious – anything to reignite the light, "…all horrible lies!"

"Go to the offi–"

"Your method of punishment is unethical!" She had whirled on the teacher, her fraught voice filling the classroom.

Silence engulfed, and she came back to herself. She straightened, lowered her head, and regained composure. "…I will… escort myself to the office."

Her footsteps were loud echoes in her ears. She had made a fool of herself, no doubt. Even so, she paused at the door, looking back to the color red. This time it was he who was watching her.

"I… hope to see you smiling again. A real smile." She felt foolish saying it, saying anything more at all, but the fear of humiliation did not subjugate the fear of him losing that strange radiance that he held. A sudden flare made her turn to the teacher once more. "And his explanation of the last equation was better than yours!"

The door slammed behind her.

The pieces stopped coming together, the memory left incomplete with jagged edges ready to slice her should she try to re-approach it. Thousand more shards remained, strewn and hidden about the bleak darkness.

But it was a start, a start to recollecting the life that once was.

She still lurked in halls in the present time. Only those walls were a frigid white and gray – longer, wider, and colder than the ones from before. No one walked or talked in those cold halls. At least no one… that was anyone.

She mulled over her one possession, her one memory, and confusion threatened to encompass her in a whirlwind. What made her act the way she did? What made her want to preserve the light, what made her turn frantic? And the last words she said to that teacher… The thing that made her expel such a childish quip was something she no longer possessed or understood.

But then again, she never recalled understanding anything – or even contemplating anything – within the ceaseless white halls. Perhaps she would return to the monotonous routine and neither think nor feel. However, the recollection, glittering red, would not fade away.

Then she thought she saw red against the white, thought she saw a glimmer of green. And it would seem she did. She had seen him before in the gray and white, but now she could recognize the red from the monochrome.

How did he – of all people – end up in such a place?

She lingered in the shadows with the ones called Dusks. He never looked her way, never knew she was there. He would not know her even if he did. And she did not know him beyond that one fragment, that one reflected memory. She did not know if he ever smiled again.

Another piece of the impossible puzzle slid into place.

His name.

The one with radiant red hair, lambent emerald eyes, and a bright smile… she remembered his name. Lea. It was Lea.

She remembered his name… even though she had forgotten her own.

* * *

**_..._**

**_A/N:_ I've been musing over this for a while. Let me know if it's any good or if it's worth continuing.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to starlit-pancake and NaomiKindle, I've expanded on my ideas for this story. It'd be so kind of you to let me know what you think after you're done reading it. Now,** without further delay, I present the second chapter.**  
**

**...**

* * *

**::II::**

_Floating_. The first thing she remembered was floating. There was no light; there was no sound – nothing. Just the blanket of dark and the silence of sleep. She couldn't say when awareness first started creeping its way into the dream of nothingness. All she could recall was light, the color of red, small and flickering in the distance. It bothered her. Though it was wavering and dim, it still reached her. It lifted her to that drowsy state of being half awake and half asleep. She wanted to return to sleep, wanted to draw the comforter of darkness over her head and blot out everything else. But it would not go away. When she tried to turn away from it, there it still was. Perhaps it was not really there; maybe it was in her head. All that could be done was ignore it. She closed her eyes and continued drifting.

Red. It came and went, blinking in and out of existence. As soon as she'd forget, it'd be shining through again. It refused to leave forever. And in the beginning it was all she had. There was nothing else, there was no one else. She had no thought, nor reason, nor goal, nor dreams. She simply drifted, endlessly, through nothingness. And that likely would not have changed, had it not been for the one in the black hood.

She did not know who he was, or where he came from. But he was there, and the only thing that echoed in her subconscious was that _someone had come for her_. He located her, fished her out from the inky vastness. He carried her like she was a child; her head resting on his shoulder. She remembered looking up into his face and in her mind's eye she could still see the amber irises that almost seemed to glow from under the black hood. He led her away from the dark, took her to a world in between that was not supposed to be. It was there he provided her with new clothes, a home, and a name.

The clothes were similar to his; the main component being a long black hooded coat. The home was a large, empty castle of white and gray. And the name he gave her was not her true name – but nonetheless it was a name and it belonged solely to her. She was called Dexné.

From then on Dexné wandered the halls of the cold castle, following the leadings of Xemnas – the one who had come for her, who found her. He was the one who pointed which direction she should go and what she was to do there. He was the one who gave her a purpose, a meaning amid the bleakness. He was the Superior of the In-Between, and she followed wherever he directed, did as he ordered without thought.

She could not tell how long she'd been a part of the beings that wore the black hoods, not that anyone had ever asked. She only knew that she watched the Organization grow from a few to a dozen. She had been there before many of the others. Yet she held no place in the Round Room; not a single seat was meant for her. Perhaps it was because she was never assigned a number, as the others had been. The members were assigned ranks from Number I through Number XII. Dexne was none of these. She was simply referred to as the Organization's _Nulla_.

_Nulla._ It was a term that meant none, nothing. That was what she was – her rank, her position, so she was told. Dexné or Nulla, both could be used to refer to her. She was a shadow and she obeyed and carried out her orders without fail.

She was mostly used for reconnaissance, for infiltration, for spying. It was not difficult for her to stay unnoticed. It was her nature – something that never changed; heart or not. She always kept her hood up, always kept the darkness close. It wasn't like she had much of a choice, anyway. For even when she tried, even when she took the tiniest step towards the light… the shadows always seemed to follow.

Which was why she could not understand how he saw her.

He passed her in the halls every now and then and on the way to and from missions, the one with red hair. She knew that person, yet she didn't. She remembered his name, or what used to be his name (though for the life of her she could not remember her own). He was called Axel now. Every time she caught a glimpse of him the slogged gears in her mind would begin working. She recognized him. But he did not look her way; he did not see her now. And that was normal, for she was usually overlooked, like the shadows of the furniture were paid no mind.

But back then… he did.

The red bled though the darkness that coated her mind, and more shards of memory were found and pulled together.

She was walking to school, as she always did, alone. The name of the world in which she lived escaped her knowledge. It was a bright place; usually warm and sunny with a perfect breeze. It had beautiful cobblestone streets landscaped with trees, hedges, and flowers. She stayed to the edge, walking in the shade of the trees, the shadow fragmented by the sunlight that poured through cracks between leaves and branches.

She took the back way on a quiet street with the sweet song of birds and insects in place of the babbles of people. She got to school not too early and not too late. The Homeroom Bell would decide the start of the school day and since it was erratic the students were forced to arrive about twenty minutes prior to the official start time or else be flagged tardy – which came with a grievous, and boring, lecture. Therefore there were teenagers congregated in the cafeteria and the halls, chatting with friends, clustered in various groups. She weaved by them to a less crowded hallway – an older part of the school with rough bare brick walls. She sat on the cold floor, her knees drawn up, and leaned back on the gritty surface. She remembered it was the spot she always sat, not too close or far from the groups; always the inconspicuous in-between.

She sits with her head bowed, neither looking nor speaking. She does not smile or frown at anyone or anything. She simply waits – for the bell, to start her assignments, to go home, and then to restart the whole process the next day. The routine was never trifled with – excluding her trip to the office the other day – and she expected everything to return to normal.

Red flashed in her peripheral.

She peered from beneath her fringe, trailing the color discreetly with her eyes. He was the same, as if yesterday never happened, as if a class full did not try to tear him apart. He walked and talked with others the same: so easily. He was not confined to any group.

A few students from that class were in the hallway. They looked away – whether in shame or indifference she couldn't tell. He was approached by one of them; a girl. She fidgeted awkwardly and it seemed she was trying to apologize. Lea's smile was tight and he shrugged indifferently. Unable to hear, Dexné – though she was not called such then – watched as the girl nodded before scurrying off and Lea moved on like nothing happened.

At least the girl had the courage to say sorry – something Dexné would not be brave enough to try. She wondered if she should, if it was expected. She probably embarrassed him.

She became… uneasy, then. She could not recall what she was… feeling. Dexné remembered being uncomfortable, like she was constricted and the air was low on oxygen.

Should she apologize? Had anyone else apologized? Her question was answered.

"Sorry about yesterday, man," a boy from that class called out. Lea glanced at him uninterested.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he said nonchalantly, and passed by the boy without a backwards glance.

Dexné guessed he wasn't going to be buddies with them anytime soon.

Quickly she adverted her eyes to the floor, head bowed. She focused on his red and white shoes – black socks – until he'd gone by.

She exhaled slowly. What could she do? She was trapped within herself, chained to the shadows – even then. She had already spoken yesterday and that drained her; all she did in the principal's office was slump and bear the berating. Though the thought of reporting that awful teacher did cross her mind…

"Hey!" Green eyes suddenly bore into her, red hair commanded her attention. Her head snapped back to the wall and she gasped, nearly crying out. "Easy, I didn't mean to scare you." Lea was crouched in front of her. When did he get there? He just popped up from nowhere. "Your name's - - -, right?"

Dexné blinks in present time, as if clearing her eyes would clear her mind. She repeated the phrase.

"Your name's - - -, right?"

There was a blank, a block missing from her memory's pieces. No matter how many times she repeated it, replayed it, the blank would not fill in.

But she did remember responding with a jerky nod. She was surprised by both his presence and the fact he actually knew her name.

His bright smile greeted her – closer than she'd ever seen it. "I'm Lea. Got it memorized?"

Oh, yes, she did. The fact that she could remember it even as she walked the Halls that Never Were spoke volumes. The fact that she remembered it over her own name spoke louder.

She went back to the memory.

"What're you doing all by yourself?" he asked.

Her mind was slow to process, so she merely pulled one shoulder up in a disoriented half-shrug.

"You don't know? Where are your friends?"

She shook her head, glancing away.

His tone went serious. "I know you can talk. Speak up, what're you saying?"

She swallowed. "None. No friends."

He regarded her for a moment. "Seriously?" She nodded. Neither said anything. Then, "You should hang out with us."

The sentiment echoed and she wasn't sure she heard right. She stared.

"Whoa, chatterbox, slow down. I know you're excited, but c'mon."

Her brain stopped, gears clogged with confusion.

"C'mon," he said, smiling again, "I'll introduce you to –" The bell filled the school with its shrill sound and Lea glared upwards – like he could see the noise and kill it with his eyes. "O-kay, new plan. I'll walk you to homeroom."

She could not form any words of protest. All she could do was go along with him, as he had grabbed her wrist and tugged her in tow. Dragging her feet would cause a scene, so she walked willingly. The homerooms, she recalled, were organized alphabetically by first names. Students with names beginning in A-D were in Homeroom 1, E-H Homeroom 2, and so on. Lea was in Homeroom 3. Dexné remembered because they walked past it and she couldn't figure out why he'd waste time accompanying her. He'd had to double back as her homeroom was much further down. They stopped outside of it and she was unsure what to do. Should she thank him? Was it expected? Decorum was lost on her.

She looked to him for the answer, but he only smiled and said, "I'll catch ya later," before heading back to his homeroom. "Oh, and don't go telling anyone you don't have any friends." He grinned at her from over his shoulder. "'Cause we're friends now. Get it memorized."

She stood, staring as he walked off, completely bewildered. What just happened? Is that really all it took to make someone a friend – declare them so?

Presently Dexné swam in her thoughts, fishing for an explanation, or another memory that would tell her more. Unfortunately, once again, the pieces stopped coming back together. She searched but there was only dark nothingness – no more shards of broken memory shined through. What barely sparkled before was pulled away and engulfed.

She numbly stood surrounded by Dusks, she the only black amongst the white, listening to faint whispers wisp around her. Whispers of newly discovered worlds filled her ears, all beckoning her call. The Superior's orders reigned over reminiscence. Dexné disappeared through a Dark Portal.

She had work to do.

* * *

The new world: virgin forests dominated and provided Dexné with excellent cover as she observed the people that inhabited a clearing near a healthy, pristine river. They appeared primitive in their animal skin clothing.

She weaved amongst the towering trees, hiding with their long shadows. Dark hair, dark skin, tribal, crude weapons: Dexné noted these details and filed them away for when she wrote the mission report. Though first glance would say otherwise, the people were not as primitive as they seemed. They had a community, communicated in a complex language, built sturdy homes, and even had fields of crops. She also caught glimpse of what looked like canoes, fashioned from large logs, being paddled down the river. Man, woman, and child all had roles to fill, jobs to do to keep their society going. Dexné watched as a group of young men went into the forest with spears, bows, and arrows – a hunting party she presumed – while women tended the crops. A little boy helped his mother by chasing off a crow from a row of planted beans.

Dexné's eyes lingered on the weapons as the hunting party came close to her. The weapons were of carved wood and stone. Nothing special, nothing to be concerned about. Yet not something she'd want to trifle with either. Avoidance was her best bet when it came to combat. The men were stealthy in their walk, grazing over earth quietly in their soft moccasins. But even so the grass crunched softly and the leaves from low hanging branches whispered steadily as the men passed like a gentle breeze. Dexné was better, for she was not even air to her surroundings. She pressed closer to the pine's prickly embrace, melding into its shadow as one of the men went directly by her. She did not move until they were gone.

There were no signs of Heartless. These people lived in relative peace. For now.

The Dark Corridor welcomed her with open arms and brought her home. She went straight to her room – on the other side of the castle, away from the other's quarters – and wrote her report. It was detailed when it needed to be but for the most part it was short, clipped, to the point. Just as all her previous reports were. When it was finished and cleared of mistakes she took it directly to Number VII.

It was only recently that the Superior approved Dexné to correspond with Saïx; to accept missions from him and to deliver the results to him. Normally it was solely Xemnas that commanded her. It was strange to hand the report to Saïx.

There was something tickling her mind as he took the papers from her, but she could not place it. Her gaze glued to the X-shaped scar that crossed his face. It was good her hood concealed this, or else he'd catch her staring.

"Good work," was all he said, and she took his further silence as a dismissal. She returned to her room, for the day was done.

His blue hair was distracting, she realized. Perhaps that was what bothered her. Or maybe she was used to Xemnas as her sole commander and the shift in responsibilities confused her. Whatever it was, she ignored it. The change in routine would become normal to her – in time.

But things settling into normalcy – like a fine dust that settled not long after a cleaning – may take longer than she anticipated. For the next day, a new member walked the halls.

* * *

His hair was like golden fire, his eyes reminded Dexné of a deep ocean – the surface eerily still and glassy, hiding something yet there was nothing to be seen.

Dexné was not introduced to him as the others were – in the Round Room – but saw him in passing; introduced only by overheard words. They called him Roxas, Number XIII, the Key of Destiny. He did not speak, not even when spoken to. He just stared blankly. XIII was as blank as his stare and Dexné wondered if he, too, could not recall his former name. It was Axel who guided him. He was patient with the boy, often repeating things for him and spelling out names. As Dexné witnessed this she couldn't help but think… would he do the same for her… if she asked?

The thought was struck and turned to ash, like an insect consumed by lightning's fire. Of course not. How foolish. What was to say they were really friends? An unreliable memory? She drew her hood up tighter, making sure it stayed in place.

She listened as Axel calmly and repeatedly tried to explain to Roxas aspects of the castle, the concept of missions, and all the names he was expected to know.

"How about my name? You remember?"

"Ax… Ax… Ax–"

"El. It's Ax-el."

"Ax…el."

"Good. Now how about our boss's name?"

Patient, calm… was that how he was or was he just being… nothing? A Nobody, the likes of which could not feel. The other members acted, behaving based on memories of who they used to be. Was he the same? He did not seem blank, not like Roxas, but she wondered if he was the same as back then…

"Nulla!" She immediately yanked herself from eavesdropping and shadows and came to attention in front of Saïx. "Another recon mission."

She was given her orders and then was on her way. Dexné did as she was told. In-between missions she would see them – red and gold.

Little by little Roxas's eyes became less dull and more aware. He started becoming interested in his surroundings. He was finding his own way around. He was looking at every face and studying it like he was seeing another being for the first time. Some of the members didn't like it, didn't like the way he stared. But he saw every face, except Dexné's. He did not see her at all.

She was never introduced, and she was never close to him when out in the open. Maybe he caught a glimpse of her cloaked figure – made shapeless by the loose fit – in the Grey Area, which was where they received missions. If he did, he was not focused. She never caught his stare lingering.

It did, however, linger on Number XIV.

It was strange to have new members popping up, but Dexné supposed it was like that for all of them, at least for the ones that joined early on.

They were both quiet, XIII and XIV. They seemed similar in more ways than one, but Dexné could not place how or what. But never did it cross her that they were as quiet as she. She was distant – she had no kindred spirits.

It was a day after a week before Number XIII was given his first mission. Dexné imagined it would be that long 'til XIV was put to work. Dexné tried to remember how it was for her. Those first days were fuzzy – all she did was follow the Superior like a lost dog.

She was there when they embarked on Roxas's first mission. She stood far back, in the dark hall before the Grey Area, waiting until she could approach for her mission – if there was one.

"Teach him well, Axel."

"Don't worry. I'll be sure he makes the grade. C'mon, Roxas… What's wrong?"

XIII did not respond; he was transfixed on XIV.

"You worried about the new kid?" Axel assumed, and something about that line snagged on Dexné's attention. "What was that name again?"

"Number XIV, Xion." Saïx supplied.

"Right. I knew that."

Worried… A Nobody could not worry. Why would he say that? He spoke like a person, which meant he must remember his life before. But, of course, most did. Witnessing the other members acting out told her that. It never fazed her before, she didn't care, but now… she wondered what else Axel remembered.

"Xion," Roxas repeated dazedly.

"Got it memorized, Roxas?"

"…Yeah."

"Yeah? Well, how 'bout my name then?"

Dexné listened as Axel quizzed Roxas once more. This time the boy made no mistakes.

"It's Axel."

"And our boss's name?"

"Xemnas."

"No way you're gonna forget his name, right? C'mon, let's go."

Dexné could not see their faces well from where she stood, but for a moment she thought she saw VIII's mouth tilt up slightly. She blinked, holding her eyes shut, like that would capture the image, and trap it behind her eyelids so she could study it. A… smile? She tried to recall if that was how he used to smile, or if she'd seen him smile at all since becoming a Nobody, but her mind went fuzzy and she couldn't obtain anything. When she opened her eyes they were gone, the Dark Portal shutting behind them.

She pushed inquiries and confusion aside before stepping out of the dark hall. Her steps were quiet. She did not wear the standard boots, but flexible black shoes similar to the moccasins those indigenous people wore. Whereas the other members and their boots gave a soft tap-tap announcing their approach, Dexné's footfalls were completely muffled. Larxene's click-clacking heeled boots were worse, but then stealth was never Number XII's fancy – she preferred to be quick and loud like the lightning she wielded.

Dexné stopped in front of Saïx and waited without a word. He knew what she was there for. No need for pointless chatter.

"Nulla," he addressed her, "I have nothing else lined up for you today. You are not needed. Go."

She bowed lightly. "As you say." Her voice was a whisper, a rasp of stagnant air that refused to move with the breeze. It was not often she used it, for it would not cooperate.

She headed back to her room. On the long walk through the halls she couldn't stop the pins of curiosity that stuck in her brain. How was Number XIII doing on his first mission? She paused, then opened a corridor of darkness. She passed through and emerged in a town paralyzed in dusk's gentle light. Twilight Town.

She had no intention to interfere with their mission. She merely walked about the sleepy streets, keeping a look out for any potential dangers. She needn't do so, as VIII was capable, and she didn't know why, but it eased the annoying sensation of the sticking pins.

The soft glow of twilight melted into the shadows which she clung. There were very little people out. A woman carrying a basket went into a shop; three teenagers chased each other, running past Dexné without giving her so much as a glance. The warm brick roads glided under her feet. She was pulled into the sleepy haze of the town and she walked without purpose. She forgot what she was doing there.

She stopped under a tall white bridge-like structure, and upon hearing the train coast overhead remembered the railway. She scouted the world long ago – one of her first missions – and distinctly recalled noting the town's main system of transportation in the report. She leaned against the solid concrete support wall, resting in its shade. Her eyes scanned the grounds, then the skyline of the town, and came to rest on the tallest structure. The massive clock tower stretched to the sky, its face washed in the warm light of the setting sun, with those two strange giant bells propped on the sides like a bird's wings. Dexné had never heard them ring.

Her eyes focused, suddenly, on two black clad figures sitting far up on the tower's ledges. Red and gold blended in with the surrounding light and from the distance could barely be seen. The sight struck her. She watched them for a long time. Something just seemed… so… familiar.

She needed to know what it was.

After they left she found her way up there. She stepped out onto the empty balcony that was positioned above the clock face. Behind her were glassless gothic windows that opened up the dark inside to the sun. In front of her was a thick concrete barrier – the ledge they were sitting on. Why hadn't she noticed this spot before? Back when she first mapped the town she made sure to include everything important. But then again, how important was it? A balcony that led to nowhere. She supposed she just overlooked it, focused instead on the tower itself and the train station it also served as.

She could see over the entire town from up there, all the way out to the golden-green hills beyond. All the houses looked small and even the tall white railway, which had loomed far above her and the houses whilst she was under it, was dwarfed.

Dexné could not shake the familiarity or her ponderings, though she'd like to. But she knew this wasn't her home world for the rusty reds and yellows that dominated it were not familiar at all. But something about the view, with everything looking so small and far away, was. She wanted to place it, but could not. She walked to the edge, placed her hand on it, then leaned over to look straight down.

The moment her sight hit the distant ground her head began to spin like a carousel on a restless, stormy sea.

_She was leaning over the edge, being pulled down; her hands were clamped around someone's wrist, her nails sinking into their flesh. They were falling._

_She was falling._

Dexné flung herself backwards with such force she slammed her back to the floor. She stared wide eyed at the golden bathed clouds that lazily drifted above. What was that? Was that… something that had happened? Cautiously she stood, slowly, warily, waiting to see if it would happen again…

Nothing did, and so she returned to the castle.

* * *

Days passed without another… vision, though Dexné waited for one. She did not remember anything further either, and things fell back into stagnant routine.

Roxas accompanied each member of the Organization on various missions, as he was not yet ready to go it alone. All excluding the Superior, Dexné, and Xion – the last was not yet ready for missions. The Superior was lord of the castle, and as far as Dexné knew he rarely left it. As for Dexné herself, all her missions were executed solitarily, even her first few. Ordinarily new recruits were led through by a more experienced member for at least their first two missions. Not so for Dexné. She was always sent out alone. Confused and unsure, she got lost and forgot her orders on her first assignment. Time passed and eventually another member – Xigbar, Number II – was deployed to retrieve her.

It had happened more than once, but soon she was able to retain and understand her objectives. She worked more closely with Dusks than with the others. She did not bother to contemplate why she was constantly solo. She knew. She preferred it, actually. With a partner she would not know what to do, or how to act, otherwise.

Since Roxas started his job of taking out Heartless, Dexné's missions mostly consisted of scouting prior to XIII's mission. She would locate the areas the Emblem Heartless congregated and report the information to Saïx, who would then pass it on to Roxas and whichever member he was sent with that day. They did this so the Key of Destiny would spend more time collecting hearts and less time idly searching for them.

But there was another mission Dexné received, one she found rather odd.

It was handed down by Xemnas himself, and that mission required Dexné to monitor the other members of the Organization. She'd never been given such orders before. But she did not question the Superior. She simply responded, "As you say, it will be done," and bowed deeply before leaving his presence.

So she followed and observed, keeping out of sight. She paid particular attention to how they interacted with Number XIII, for she was told to.

Marluxia seemed intently interested in the keyblade and Dexné even caught him murmuring about it to himself. He also appeared to be on good terms with XII, who was normally very prickly to others, yet almost passive with him.

Zexion was prudent but clipped with his lectures – his answers to Roxas's questions. She found nothing off about him.

Larxene on the other hand…

"What do you mean I have to teach the brat magic?! Are you serious?!"

Saïx stared at her levelly. "This is your mission. You will fulfill it."

"Ugh, why me? Why not Demyx – he hardly does anything!"

"I will not repeat myself. Cease your childish insolence. Or perhaps you would prefer to teach Nulla magic?"

The threat was heard. Larxene turned up her nose and looked away, crossing her arms angrily.

It was then that Dexné realized that maybe the others avoided her just as she avoided them. She need not ponder why – she knew the reason.

To say that Number XII was rude to Roxas would be an understatement. She clearly did not care about him or the Organization's goals. This was noted in Dexné's report.

Vexen was belittling in his speech and arrogant in regards to his own intelligence. Nothing new there. He taught Roxas basic reconnaissance and informed him of the existence of other worlds. Every member needed to know how to perform some recon. Dexné was more knowledgeable in the subject, despite what IV's ego might say, and was more experienced. It was basically all she did. But, even if the unspoken solo rule were disregarded, a teacher she was not.

Lexaeus was a gruff instructor and got right to the point. She saw nothing suspicious about him.

By far Axel was the friendliest towards Roxas, offering good advice and looking out for him. He even took Roxas back to the clock tower, sharing ice cream. He told Roxas they were friends. Again Dexné was left to wonder. He declared them friends… and now they were? She didn't get it. His description of friends did not resonate with her either.

_"Friends eat ice cream together, and talk and laugh about the stupidest things."_

The explanation meant nothing, she remembered nothing.

She had no friends, nor did she ever.

* * *

Dexné continued to observe the other members of the Organization. She simply reported what she saw – directly to Xemnas for that particular mission. She was told to bypass Saïx, inform no one but the Superior. In fact, Number VII was also under her watch.

She didn't know what she was looking for exactly. Knowing might make it easier, but she did not ask. It was up to the Superior to tell or not and not for her to question.

Time went by and one day Dexné found fewer members present at the castle. She wandered the halls, but found no sign of them. It was too early to be gone on missions. Nearly half their numbers were gone.

It was not long after the discovery that Saïx called her for another mission. The Dusks found her, and their whispers brought her to Number VII.

"Nulla," he said to her as the Dusks swished away, "these orders come from Lord Xemnas himself. You are to follow Axel to Castle Oblivion… and help him root out the traitors."


	3. Chapter 3

**::III::**

"As you say," was her rasped response, and she hid her surprise well. A mission with another member? It was never required of her before – avoided actually. Saïx seemed to give the order reluctantly, she noticed. Like he, too, found the notion distasteful. Regardless, it was the Superior's will and therefore had to be done.

Dexné took the mission briefing papers Saïx handed her. While doing so, she got caught on his eyes. Once again something… something was bothering her. It was prickling incessantly at the back of her mind. Before it was his hair that she found distracting, and now his eyes… they were… not right.

His eyes were _wrong_.

She didn't know why she thought that. Did Saïx not always have yellow eyes? Dexné was not completely sure if she was integrated into the Organization before VII. Perhaps, it was likely. And not once did she see Saïx with any other eye color. Why, then, were thoughts popping into her head telling her otherwise?

"Nulla, that is all. Go. You have your orders."

She blinked, and realized she'd been standing there with her arm still outstretched, the papers in hand.

"As you say," she rasped again. She quickly tucked the papers in a hidden pocket and turned on her heel, marching out of the Grey Area. Unconsciously she tightened her hood. Humiliation was not something she was subjected to anymore, and for that she was grateful.

Number XIII did not see her as she passed him in the dark hall. That obliviousness could hurt him on a mission, she thought. He needed to work on his awareness. She wasn't even trying to hide. Or perhaps, because it was the castle, he wasn't trying either. He was headed to the Grey Area for his mission no doubt, while she was headed for her room to prepare for what would probably be an extended mission. She faintly heard Roxas call for Axel, then Saïx's brisk reply faded as she became too far to hear.

In her room, Dexné gathered hi-potions, elixirs, and panaceas – storing them in the hidden pockets throughout her coat. She fit them in snugly so they did not rattle when she moved. For larger inner pockets, she fit the potions in with a handkerchief or two to prevent them from clanking together.

She could afford no noise in any mission, especially this one. Dexné's primary skill was remaining undetected, her second skill was evasion, and her third… Her eyes combed the mission brief. Her third skill was the dead last resort – to be used when all else fails.

Dexné lowered the papers from her face and stared hard at the bare wall. She wondered what it would mean for Axel to fail. Would he… die? The thought made her uncomfortable.

Dizziness suddenly overcame her and she swayed. Her lightheadedness evaporated for a moment, but then it reared around and hit her harder. She in turn hit the floor. She crawled to the wall, leaned her weight against it as she tried to stand. But then she stopped. Stopped resisting.

More pieces were sliding into place.

_"Because we're friends now. Get it memorized."_

She sat where she usually sat, her knees drawn up to her chest, her back against a rough brick wall. She waited or the morning bell to ring, trying to think of anything besides Lea's words. But they wouldn't go away, like an annoying echo that kept going and going.

Dexné didn't hold much value in the things people said. People say lots of things, only to turn around and do something completely different. So she didn't really expect anything from the lithe redhead. Although… maybe she hoped… She sighed, deep and despondent. No, there was no use in hoping. It would only lead to disappointment. She learned that the hard way, though present-time Dexné could not remember how.

She sat. She waited. She willed her thoughts to take another direction, away from Lea and his words. But apparently that will was not very strong.

Friends… What use were they? What use was she to them? She didn't know how to be a friend; no one ever gave her the chance to learn. She was passed by – she let them pass her by. It was safer in the shadow. There was no risk, no… disappointment. From her or anyone else.

The bell had yet to ring. Either it was late (erratic as it was, it still stayed within a certain time range) or Dexné arrived earlier than usual. Maybe she did. No, she knew she did. She noted the time before she left the house. She just… She didn't want to admit it was done purposely. She didn't want to admit she hoped… Whatever. It didn't matter. Everything would go back to the way it was. Lea would pass her by just like everyone else. And the sad part was she didn't blame him for it.

There it is. That uncomfortable, sinking feeling in her chest. Disappointment. Words meant nothing.

"People are such… liars," she mumbled, staring at her plain brown shoes as she hugged her knees tighter.

"Who's a liar?"

She stiffened, stopped breathing. Her eyes traveled diagonally from brown shoes to red, white, and black shoes. Then stayed glued there.

He tapped her on the head. "Hey, you there?"

She slowly looked up, all the while trying to think what to say. Normally her mind went nonstop with musings and daydreams. But when it _really_ counted, her mind was blank. Lea watched her, waiting. Dexné scanned for any sign of anger, any sign of danger. She needed to know if she had to run. Though, as Dexné thought back on that moment, it seemed like an overreaction on her part. All she saw from Lea was mild confusion and concern.

"You okay? Who lied?"

Dexné shook her head, but then quickly nodded. "I'm fine. It's nothing. It's just… something I read in a book. A story."

Stupid, she immediately thought after giving her answer. He must think she's so stupid. But he gave no indication of that. He just shrugged and said, "Okay."

Then began the awkward silence – something Dexné could sprout with ease. And she was not good at ending them.

"So…" He shifted. "You look dead today. Didn't sleep well?"

She shook her head slowly, to give her time to rehearse her reply in her head. "No, I… I do not sleep well at night."

"But no problem sleeping during class, am I right?" He grinned. "Same here."

Dexné blinked, then nodded stiffly. One second he wasn't smiling, then in the next he was. And he spoke with no hesitation, like it required no extensive thought or planning. Like it was easy for him, the words just came. Dexné wished it could be that way for her.

"Hey, remember when I said I wanted to introduce you to somebody?" He motioned for her to get up. "Let's go see him now."

She followed behind him, keeping with his quick pace. They weaved past clusters of students through the halls until they ended up in front of the library entrance. Lea pushed open one side of the double door, holding it for her as she went in.

The library was quiet, and that seemed abnormal after coming from the white-noise chatter in the halls. There were a few students scattered around. A couple of them were browsing through books, others looked to be catching up on homework at the various study tables. That was where Lea led her next. They walked up to a table where one boy sat, his nose in an astrophysics book with a few more books neatly stacked beside him. The first defining feature Dexné noticed about him was his hair.

It was blue.

"Yo, Isa," Lea not-really-whispered, "look who I brought."

Isa put his book down and looked up. His eyes were green, almost the same shade as Lea's. He raised his eyebrows in an unimpressed way. "This is the stray puppy?"

"Her name's - - -." Lea smiled brightly, then pointed to himself with his thumb. "She thinks I'm awesome."

Dexné stared with wide, petrified eyes. Her frizzy mind recalled her stance in the classroom for him the other day as an explanation for the statement.

Isa snorted. "That makes one of us."

Lea looked at her, gesturing towards Isa. "The grump's name is Isa."

"Nice to meet you," Isa said without missing a beat. He stood, gathering his books like he knew he wasn't going to get anymore studying done with Lea there. He was tall, his hair was short, the top part was slicked back but then spiked upwards near the back. Like it was a last minute act of rebellion. He looked intimidating in his crisp white pants, black shoes, and navy jacket. There was a yellow crescent moon printed on the left breast of the jacket.

The first thing that popped in Dexné's head when noting his full appearance: falcon lord. She'd never say it out loud – it sounded silly even in her head. But she justified it because he acted dignified like a lord and his hair reminded her of a falcon.

He seemed much the opposite of Lea, whose casual tan baggy pants, sleeveless orange jacket and white undershirt spoke in contrast to Isa's neatly pressed attire.

As for Dexné: brown shoes, a long gray skirt, and a modest white shirt. What did that say about her? That she was bland?

The bell rang, saving Dexné from conversation. Or attempted – no, _failed_ conversation on her part.

She had no idea what to make of the encounter. Or the way Lea and Isa acted toward each other. Were they insulting? Or joking? They continued their banter all the way to Homeroom.

Isa stopped outside of HR3, watching as Lea went past. "You're always going on about getting things memorized and you can't even remember your own homeroom?"

Lea waved him off. "I know where it is! I'm just taking - - - to hers."

Isa raised a brow. "Did she forget, too?"

Lea stuck his tongue out at him and continued walking, a confused Dexné ambling behind. "I'll be right back."

"I won't make excuses for you if you're late. Again." Lea stuck his tongue out at Isa once more. Dexné heard Isa chuckle quietly.

They went all the way down to her HR. Lea did a lazy wave. "We'll see ya later."

"Is he," Dexné spoke abruptly, loud enough to stop him, then struggled to form a coherent sentence. "Is… Did I make him angry?"

"Huh?"

"Isa. He… he seemed angry. Did I do something?"

"What? No! He's always like that." Lea smiled as if it were a good thing.

Dexné blinked. "Oh…"

"Don't worry. He'll get used to you." Another bell rang. "Uh-oh, gotta go!" Lea sprinted back to his HR.

For the second time Dexné was left standing there, confused. She methodically walked into her homeroom and sat quietly as the teacher took attendance.

Dexné remembered going through the day, same as usual. It seemed strange, faraway… like the morning was a dream.

Lunch time rolled around. She never went to the cafeteria. Too much noise. Once a group of boys chucked uneaten grapes at her as she sat alone at the end of their table. It wasn't her fault there was nowhere else to sit. That was the last time she ate in the cafeteria.

She walked the halls looking for a quiet, secluded place to eat the sandwich she carried in her bag with her books. It was probably squished flat, but that didn't bother her. It'd just make it easier to eat. Faster, too. Unfortunately that day a hall monitoring teacher noticed her, telling her she absolutely could not eat anywhere but the cafeteria. Dexné couldn't remember her face or name, only that she was annoying. She marched Dexné to the cafeteria, then stayed in the hall so Dexné wouldn't be able to sneak out.

And so Dexné stood before a mass of students, awkwardly staring at her shoes. Of course hardly anyone noticed her entrance. They kept talking, eating, or whatever else they did during lunch. Even so, she'd been shoved from shadow, her safe haven, into the threatening light. She had no idea what to do. There were no spots for her to sit.

She stood there too long. Some students noticed and were throwing her weird looks. Dexné started scanning for alternative exits.

"Hey! Hey, - - -!" That voice was Lea. She saw him standing, waving her over to his table. Isa sat beside him, quiet and composed. Seeing no other option, Dexné went over.

Isa grunted as Lea scooted, pushing him over to make room at the end of their bench. Dexné sat carefully, like she wasn't sure if she was truly welcome, even though Lea blatantly made room for her.

"We looked for you. Where've you been?"

She paused before answering, "I don't… I do not like coming to the cafeteria. It is too noisy." Her words: careful. Her tone: flat and controlled.

"Hmph. We share the same opinion then." That was Isa.

Lea looked between them. "Man, you guys are acting like robots or something. Lighten up!"

"Better than acting like a dork," retorted Isa.

"Hey!" Lea acted offended, but he was smiling. Isa also smiled… slightly. Dexné did not understand.

Even then, she knew so little.

The memory faded out. The shards remaining of it… were too small for her to see clearly. In the present, Dexné found herself kneeled, her forehead placed to the cold floor of her dark room.

Red. Blue.

Lea. Isa.

Axel… and Saïx.

* * *

Castle Oblivion. Such a strange, foreboding place. Too many rooms to count. Too many halls to roam. Too many little shadows cutting the white.

The outside of the castle belied the stark white interior. The odd angled roofs were turquoise, greenish in color. The stone exterior was a dark, dim gold, very similar to the shade of Dexné's hair. The front door was an obvious no-no. She entered through a window on one of the upper floors after scaling a side wall. Climbing wasn't that difficult for her; her slender feet and hands did well to slip into little crevices or balance on small ledges.

Dexné did what she did best; stay unseen. There were plenty of nook and crannies to hide in. She searched for the location of the others, then she waited. Then watched.

Marluxia was acting strangely. He seemed too… invested, excited even, and a Nobody should not be like that. But Dexné did not get to watch him long. He went out to lure the "Keyblade Hero" to the castle. Numbers IV, V, and VI were lurking on one of the basement levels. Currently VIII and XII were standing around the giant crystal globe – a strange device that recorded and displayed images from inside the castle. It was blank at the moment. Things had yet to be thrown into motion.

"I'm so bored," Larxene complained.

"Just be patient. Things will get interesting soon enough," Lea – no, Axel, replied.

Larxene made a dissatisfied face. Silence ensued once more, then, "Whatever. I'm hungry." Larxene was swallowed up by a Dark Portal. Axel stood alone, arms crossed. His eyes were closed, like he was resting them.

Scraps of memories conflicted with what Dexné saw in the here and now. He was different, yet the same. Same hair color, same eyes. His hair used to be shorter, spiked upward, whereas now his hair was too long for that, and the red spikes curved down just past his shoulders. Almost like a lion's mane. And she didn't remember him having those strange reverse-tear markings.

Axel shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes looking for something. "Where _are _you?"

Where was who? Dexné wasn't sure, so she stayed put.

Axel sighed. "_Nulla?_"

That was her cue. She slid from the shadows. Her position was one that he could see, yet she kept close enough to the wall that she could quickly re-hide herself if need be.

"Oh good you're here." He didn't sound very sincere. "You know what you're doing, right?"

She was to study the behavior of every member, including Axel, to see who was truly loyal and who wasn't. But she wasn't going to say that out loud. That was between her and the Superior. Not even the mission briefing said anything about it; the papers only listed her as back-up.

"As ordered," was her reply, a whisper-rasp.

"Which was?" Axel's eyes were more different than she thought. Same color, yes. But… they were emptier. Colder.

"Observe. Confirm. Verify. I am to interfere only if everything goes wrong."

"I'm confident it won't. You just stick to watching, I'll take care of everything else."

"…As you say." Dexné's eyes slid to a corner of the room, then narrowed. Since her face was hidden she turned her head so it was obvious where she was looking. Axel followed her gaze.

"Don't worry about that. She won't say anything. Will you, Naminé?"

The girl clutched tightly to her sketchbook, hunching her shoulders. She didn't speak, but quietly shook her head _no_ in reply.

"See?" Axel waved a hand nonchalantly. "No problem."

Dexné hesitated. She normally wouldn't have a witness like this, normally wouldn't have come out of hiding, but Axel called her from the shadows. She did as told. If Number VIII said it was fine, who was she to defy?

The girl in question was young, maybe in her early teens. Her eyes were blue, shone like the glassy eyes of a porcelain doll. She was blonde too, but unlike Dexné, whose darkened hair bordered on light brown, Naminé's hair was bright, almost platinum. Dexné could pick out many differences between her and the girl. But there were a few things that were similar. Too similar. It made Dexné uncomfortable somehow.

When she had yet to move Axel leaned forward and whispered, "You can go now."

Why did he sound so… patronizing? Was he usually like this? Dexné's fogged memory couldn't remember. Regardless, she tilted her head in a light bow, then returned to shadow.

* * *

Dexné realized this was going to be a long mission – longer than she first thought. Days longer. Most of the time was spent lying in wait. It gave Dexné entirely too much time to think.

In her beginning months in the Organization her mind did not work like this. It thought of little, comprehended little, except her orders, her missions. But things were changing – she was changing, remembering, and at a rapid pace. She didn't know if that was good or bad. She decided she didn't care. Her curiosity would not leave it be, it was a hound that could not stop sniffing until the end of the scent trail was reached.

A dam had broken. Memories came trickling through Dexné's brain like never before. Voices from long ago cut up the stagnant silence. Shards of memory kept popping up, like gold sparkling from the bottom of a murky river.

She remembered going home that day, the day she sat with Lea and Isa at lunch. She stood in her house's hallway entrance, staring into space. The day had been strange, unexpected.

She remembered her house. It was old with outdated wallpaper and elegant wood trimming that wasn't seen much anymore. Shoes and coats cluttered one side of the hallway near the door. She could hear the ticking of the old grandfather clock. She walked; her slender, quiet feet still made the floor creak in that one spot near the powder room's door. A mouse could set that squeaky floorboard off.

Dexné faintly remembered hearing her mother's soft voice. "How was your day?"

"Fine." Dexné's typical response.

Dexné grasped onto that memory, trying to picture her mother's face. She could not. Oddly, she recalled the flat suede boots her mother usually wore, a long bright skirt, and long colorless hair.

Dexné ate the flat sandwich she didn't eat at lunch. She was taught early on never to waste – especially food. It disgusted her to see the other students dump trays full of untouched meals. In Dexné's eyes they might as well be tossing rubies and emeralds. They had no idea how precious food really was. She doubted the lot of them knew what it was like to go without.

She grudgingly did about half of her homework, then decided it wasn't worth it and moved on to reading. The old house had many bookshelves and Dexné had read just about everything they had to offer. She even read all the textbooks. But she mostly enjoyed fantasy, adventure, mystery, and, guiltily, even a few romance novels. The romance genre wasn't bad, so long as it was written correctly. She had a couple favorites, though she couldn't recall the titles. But she wouldn't be caught reading them in public.

She hardly went anywhere, or did anything besides reading or her mundane household chores. Though she remembered times when she walked the uncrowded roads, walked until she made it out to the woods. Then she'd sit there, watching, listening, breathing. A voice deep inside told her she was waiting for something, but what it was she didn't know. Couldn't remember.

Her father arrived home in the evening. Dexné remembered button up shirts, heavy boots, and short, hastily combed salt and pepper hair. He didn't say much. But his presence was nice, steady. Comforting.

The next day Dexné sat at her usual spot, trying to squish down anticipation. It was a fluke, she told herself. She probably weirded him out yesterday. She was so stiff and awkward. She predicted Lea would leave her alone now that he'd seen her display of social incompetence.

Lea proved her wrong.

Again and again.

He'd find her in the mornings. Sometimes she followed him to the library to "bother Isa," as Lea put it. She'd be lying if she said things weren't awkward – on her end at least.

She did not know how to get along, how to carry on a casual conversation. What was she to talk about, where was she to begin? She answered direct questions, but that was about it. Really she was afraid to say anything at all. What if she offended him? Knowing her luck, the first sentence she might utter would make him wary of her, make him take a step back. And so she tip-toed around Lea and Isa, walked on eggshells – careful, because any misstep could mean expulsion from… whatever this was.

Honestly, she believed she was just some weird tag-along.

There was a nagging thought that kept telling her he'd get tired of her eventually. Her presence was not significant – she was too timid to make it so. So she waited for him to grow bored, waited for his visits to occur less. But Lea's presence continued strong.

He troubled her, confused her, knocked her from her safe zone – disrupted what was, disrupted the way things were. And she couldn't decide if she should be angry, upset… or happy and grateful. Because by bothering her he was saving her from something, she just couldn't remember exactly what.

"He bothers me," she told her mother once after school.

"Who?" asked her mother, who was clipping coupons at the kitchen table.

"Lea."

"Tell him to leave you alone, then."

"I… I don't think I want him to."

When Lea was around she was not confined to the wall. The shadows followed her, yes. They would never go away. A part of her really didn't want them to. Sometimes it seemed it was Lea's shadow she hid in.

Lea made a habit of sitting with her every day before the start of school. He usually talked, she listened. Lea talked of many things. He spoke of his family, school grades, after-school activities, things he liked and didn't like…

Dexné was not good at speaking, or sharing her thoughts in general. She was, however, very good at listening.

But Lea was not content to just let her sit and listen. It became apparent he wanted to talk _with_ her, not talk at her.

"So, what do you do for fun, - - -?"

She blinked, zoned in. "Hm?"

He gave her a crooked grin. "Were you listening?"

"Yes," she answered firmly, though not unkindly.

"Then tell me."

She racked her brain for something to talk about. "I…" It was not an easy task. "I read."

"Yeah? What do you read?"

"Books." He rose his brows and gave her a look. "Textbooks," she elaborated.

Lea stared, aghast. "Textbooks?! Man, oh man. - - -… Don't worry, we'll find you a new hobby."

"Okay. Thank you. I like your hair." Why did she just say that? Was that a stupid thing to say? Sudden panic told her it was. "The color – it's nice." Then she wondered if she was being creepy, so she quickly threw in, "I like Isa's hair too," and immediately felt like an idiot for it.

Lea was smiling despite her fumbling. "You are really spazzy, you know that?"

That would be the first time anyone's informed her. "…I was not aware," she said.

Silence overtook. But this time it wasn't so awkward. It almost bordered on comfortable. Then a thought came to her. "…I don't think Isa approves of my presence at lunch. Are you sure it's all right for me to continue sitting with you?"

That seemed to catch Lea off guard. "What? What're you talking about? He's been warming up to you since day one."

"…He has?"

"Yeah. I mean, he did point you out to me. I didn't even know you were standing up there all by yourself." Then he smiled again. "Isa knows how I am. He wouldn't've done that if he didn't want you sitting with us."

This surprised Dexné. "Really?"

Lea looked at her. "Do you like sitting with us?"

"Yes," she replied quickly. "I just…" She trailed off. Lea was scrutinizing her, looking for something hidden in the black pools of her eyes. Dexné didn't dare move.

Finally he said, "You really care about what people think of you, huh?" He stated it more than questioned. "You should relax. Just be you."

She didn't know what to say. "Just be…"

"You." Lea pointed accusingly at her. "Just be you. Stop tip-toeing around me like I'm gonna bite your head off! I'm not, I promise." His tone walked a strange line between exasperation and playfulness.

Dexné didn't say anything, shocked that he noticed her evasive social exhibition. Not only that, he saw the reason _why_. That whoever she truly was would not be accepted, and so she hid herself rather than be rejected.

"Yes… as you say. I will cease the tip-toe."

Then, just like that, he laughed. "You are such a robot!"

She blinked. "…Does not compute?"

He lightly shoved her and laughed again.

She liked that sound. Really, really liked it. It made her stomach fluttery. And the fact that she had caused that laugh had made it all the better.

Her lips twitched, the corners tugging up. Her hand was quick to cover it.

"Hey, I saw that! Smi~le!" he sing-songed, trying to pull her hand from her mouth. She turned her face away, the smile widening. "Aw, c'mon don't hide it."

A bubbly feeling welled in her chest. As Lea shook her from side to side the feeling grew. Then it escaped.

Dexné remembered laughing.

A Dusk swirled into Dexné's peripheral, and instead of the memory stopping itself, Dexné had to pull away. There were very few Dusks sent to Castle Oblivion. Their job, like Nulla, was to work in the background, nothing more. The Dusk informed Dexné of the Keyblade Hero's approach.

It had begun.

* * *

The castle had its own kind of ventilation system. It was unique and old fashioned in a way. Snug passageways lined the top of each room; the sides facing the rooms had what was similar to arrow slits, though horizontal. Every passageway led outside, where breezes would enter and bring fresh air into the castle. It was something she could both hide in and see from. It wasn't roomy, but Dexné managed to crawl in from one of the hidden grates outside. She would have to be careful not to get lost, as there were as many passageways as there were rooms.

She could feel the drafts of outside air flow gently through the tunnels; feel the air as it whispered over her cloaked body. Quietly, steadily, she made her way to the first room. There she saw the Keyblade Hero, but, more importantly, she saw Number XI. Her orders had nothing to do with the brown haired boy with overly large shoes, but everything to do with possible traitors.

"The moment you set foot in this castle you forgot every spell and ability you ever knew. In this place, to find is to lose, and to lose is to find."

Dexné paid attention to Marluxia's words only. The Keybearer and his weird sidekicks were of no consequence to her. Marluxia continued talking, baiting the boy to go further into the castle. The boy started yelling about a… Ree-coo? Whatever. Didn't matter. What mattered to Dexné was what happened next.

Marluxia seemed to phase through the Keybearer. His attribute, the petals of a red flower, fluttered through the air. The smell of roses was supposed to be pleasant, yet for some reason, the scent nearly made Dexné recoil. And then XI held a card, and started speaking… of memories.

He didn't know she was in the castle. The only one who knew was Axel. Yet she was troubled by Marluxia's talk of delving into the Keyblader's memories. If he could do that to the boy, could it be done to Dexné? She didn't like the idea of her memories being trifled with. She did not envy the Keyblade Hero – whatever envy felt like. She didn't know. She just knew the saying.

The Keyblader took Marluxia's bait and moved forward into the castle. Not very smart, thought Dexné, to be lured so easily. If Dexné were in his humongous shoes she wouldn't have bothered. She would have left and never looked back. What could be so important that he'd let his memories be messed with?

Dexné maneuvered through the tunnels. She was a rat in the dark. She didn't like the comparison but, rat or not, orders were orders. As long as she efficiently completed the mission, all was well.

She kept a close eye on Marluxia, for out of all the members assigned to Castle Oblivion, he resided at the top of Dexné's suspicion.

Marluxia was there to meet the Keyblader as he came through the threshold of the second floor. Words were exchanged.

"What do you have to give?" XI asked the Keyblade Hero, preparing to approach – possibly to 'sample' another memory.

A Dark Portal suddenly appeared, unveiling a grinning Axel. "Hello!"

Dexné's breath froze in her lungs. For a moment she imagined that fluttering feeling. It would arrive with the sight of him, grow as she heard his voice, grow more as she saw him smiling…

But then it dropped like a lead ball. That smile he was currently showing… was not the one she remembered. It was dull, cold, sharp. A fake, a lie.

She needed to remember he was a Nobody now.

Dexné hadn't noticed the significance of a heart – never thought of it – until that moment. She just did as the Superior commanded. If the Organization's ultimate goal was to gain hearts, and master them, then so be it. Dexné didn't do anything for the promise of a heart. She didn't want one. She didn't _not _want one. It simply didn't matter to her, one way or the other. But perhaps it mattered to Axel.

"My show now, Keyblade Master! Oh, who am I? My name's Axel. Got it memorized?"

"Uh… sure."

The fake smile was still in place. Even so, Dexné could sense the danger. They were going to fight.

* * *

_"But be forewarned... When your sleeping memories awaken, you may no longer be who you are now."_

Dexné lay completely still, Axel's words echoing in her head. He had that effect apparently.

Dexné had watched the fight attentively, because she never really saw VIII in battle before. He wielded his chakrams masterfully – the fire was dazzling – but such complicated weapons seemed impractical to Dexné. Yet he pulled it off. Dexné observed the keyblade – also an impractical looking weapon. The difference between the two weapons, in Dexné's view, being that the giant key looked stupid.

He still had the habit of waving his hands around when talking, she observed. It was very distracting. Even so, she couldn't help but hold onto every word. Forgetting that you have forgotten. Losing sight of the light within the dark. The person of most importance...

_"When your sleeping memories awaken, you may no longer be who you are now."_

His voice was a broken record in her head. She wished it would stop. She couldn't afford distractions on a mission of such importance. He hadn't been talking to her anyway, but to the Keyblade Hero – whatever his name was. She didn't consider it important enough to remember.

She needed to crack down on her objective. Reminiscence could _not _come first. No matter how interesting it was, or how hard her curiosity pulled at the reins.

She watched as the Keybearer and his sidekicks slowly lost memories. Yet the boy also seemed to be gaining some. Strange things were happening. Even objects, like cards and journal pages, were being changed or wiped clear. Rightly so, the duck sidekick was starting to get nervous, and so was the Keyblader. But then the dog… thing… spoke up.

"C'mon, Sora, when you turned into a Heartless, did you forget about me and Donald?"

"Of course I didn't!"

"There you go! No matter what happens, you won't forget your friends."

That was stupid, Dexné thought. Nothing was guaranteed, and to make such blind assumptions was dangerous. As for Dexné, she continuously checked her mind. She wondered if she ever made a futile promise to never forget. Well, she had forgotten, and her few rediscovered memories were still young. She moved about extremely cautious. So far, she hadn't been messed with. Still, it troubled her. Something wasn't right.

Dexné sought answers by spying on the other members of the castle.

The girl Naminé was an enigma. Dexné's discomfort with her presence tripled.

She was forgetting something…

Dexné pulled out the mission brief and scanned the pages until she came to Naminé's name.

Well, it would've been wise to take special note of that earlier…

Through reading, Nulla pieced together what Naminé really was, and what she could do. Threat! Dexné's instincts initially shrieked. Destroy, destroy! But she was not permitted to destroy. Not Naminé, at least. She was a tool belonging to the Superior, just like Dexné. The difference: Naminé was a hammer, used to beat in or pull out memories. Dexné was a dog, used to track, used to hunt, and used to destroy.

The dog was worth more than the hammer. That conclusion pleased Dexné a little more than it should have. But then she second guessed it, and was troubled once more.

* * *

The rest of the mission whirled by in a mass of confusion and schemes. The other members in the castle could "trade shifts" so to speak, and recuperate. Dexné, working alone, could not. She didn't get much sleep, if any. She did not eat. She had some water on her, and that was it. Time wearied on – so did she.

She was fast, she was silent, but she could not be in two places at once. Dexné had trouble keeping track of all that was transpiring.

It all started out smoothly. Axel seemed to be handling everything. But nearer to the end… Dexné had never stood so conflicted on the outcome of a mission.

Of all that had happened, there were a few noteworthy moments. Some significant to the mission itself, others significant only to Dexné. She had to be able to recall the former for the mission report, the latter for the splintered memories residing in her head.

One such moment occurred in the globe room:

Without warning Axel threw a card at Larxene like he was throwing a shuriken. If it had been Dexné, she would've taken a card point to the eye. As it was, Larxene caught it skillfully. It perplexed Dexné how XII kissed it, then went over and trailed her fingers under Axel's chin. He blatantly ignored the action.

"Don't break him," he said.

"Do I detect a soft spot?" Larxene almost sounded disdainful. "I'm not going to break the toy. I'm not dumb."

"Don't forget," Axel said suddenly, "Sora is the key. We need him if we're going to take over the Organization."

Larxene put a finger to his lips. "I know you're in on it too. But keep it under your hood, at least until the time is right."

Then she was gone, swallowed up by a Dark Portal.

Dexné did not miss the smug smirk that crossed Axel's face. "You would have been wise to have done the same, Larxene." Then his expression went blank like a proper Nobody, and he looked from one end of the room to the other. "…Did you get that?"

Dexné appeared across from the crystal globe. When Axel saw her his eyes widened slightly. Something told her he didn't like it when she popped up out of nowhere like that.

"It is verified," she droned in her usual rasp.

"Good. I think it's obvious who the traitors are. I can handle everything from here. Report back."

"…Are you certain?"

"Positive. Go on. Tell Saïx what's happening and that it will be wrapped up soon."

Firstly, she was to report directly to the Superior, not Number VII. Second, she was not permitted to RTC until it was all over.

…But he didn't need to know that. The details of her objectives were for her alone.

"As you say, I will report back. The traitors are Larxene and…"

"Marluxia, obviously."

"Numbers XI and XII. It will be relayed." She bowed lightly, then "left".

She took a Dark Portal to The World That Never Was. She went to Saïx, just as VIII expected her to, relayed his information, and then told VII she was going to her chambers to write up a report. Once in her room she immediately opened another Dark Corridor. She ended up at the backside of Castle Oblivion. She crawled back into the ventilation system. She used to do something similar to the teachers, she recalled. She made it appear she was doing as told, then turned on her heel when they weren't looking. It worked with all of them, excluding busybodies like the hall monitor.

Larxene fought the Keyblader, only to come back clearly defeated, and then mocked – by Axel. Regardless, XII had completed her objective. Sora wildly searched the castle for Naminé, who had contorted his memories into believing she was a beloved friend.

Another moment that stuck to Dexné happened while she was observing Naminé, who did little but sit in her chair and draw.

_"Does it hurt?"_ Lea's voice bounced off the walls of Dexné's head.

She saw Axel come out of a Dark Portal, march right up to Naminé, and say something similar.

"Does it hurt, Naminé? Watching your two childhood friends fight all because of you? You have my sympathies. From the heart."

Naminé glared. Dexné didn't know she was capable of expression.

"But don't waste your time," VIII continued. "We Nobodies can never hope to be Somebodies."

What was he trying to do? What was he trying to say? He looked… unhappy.

An image of Lea's face, drawn with worry, flashed before her mind's eye.

_"- - -, you're bleeding…"_

She froze, waited. Waited for pain, waited or the spreading warmth of fresh blood. Dexné blinked rapidly, clearing her head. That voice was not from the present. The gears in her mind were turning in an unwarranted direction, and she needed to slam the door before anything else could come through. But she couldn't help but wonder…

What happened back then to make him say that?

Dexné had been to and fro through the castle. She learned Vexen, Lexaeus, and Zexion were plotting to take down Marluxia using the Ree-coo… that she later learned was a silver-haired boy named Riku.

Replicas were strange beings, if the replica of the boy Riku was anything to go by. She had no clue how they were made, but Vexen seemed to have a thorough understanding of his creation. Perhaps his pride wasn't uncalled for after all. But Dexné didn't like it. When Naminé was made to force new memories into the replica, the being's scream was too real.

The entire thing was like watching a chess game, except Dexné wasn't sure who was on what side.

But as it went on, it became clear where each member stood. Marluxia was for himself, and Larxene stood with him. Axel… Well, he acted as if he stood with XI. Meanwhile, Vexen, Lexaeus, and Zexion fought on behalf of the Superior, as they were using Riku's replica and possibly Riku himself to counter Sora, who was steadily coming under Naminé's – and by extension Marluxia's – control.

All was going well. It didn't look like Dexné would have to get involved after all.

And then Marluxia gave Axel the order to eliminate Vexen.

Dexné didn't think he'd actually do it – there had to be some way around it. Number IV may be pompous and loose-tongued, but his experiments were important to the Organization.

When Dexné saw Vexen go up in flames she could hardly believe it. Was he supposed to do that, she kept foolishly thinking. Was he supposed to do that? Alarms were going off in every corner of her brain.

She numbly trailed VIII back to the crystal globe room.

"Taking over the Organization will be child's play with the three of us." Larxene was nearly giddy. Then she sobered, saying, "But what are we going to do about The Devouring Shadow?"

"Nulla will not be a problem," Marluxia said. "She is no more intelligent than a Dusk; she obeys the strongest. Once Xemnas is defeated she will obey me."

Such a daring, dangerous assumption. They knew nothing about her.

A moment of silence passed between the three Nobodies.

Then, "Nulla's a girl?"

Dexné had wondered if Axel remembered who she was, if he knew the face constantly hidden under the hood. He just proved otherwise.

Larxene snorted. "Of course. Her coat's not that baggy."

"I never looked hard enough to be able to tell," VIII replied.

"The term Nulla is feminine. If it were masculine it would be Nullus."

"Interesting," Axel said blandly, not appreciating XI's knowledge. "Anyway…"

The subject returned to the Keyblade Hero and Naminé. The girl sat hunched in her chair, not speaking a word for herself.

Throughout the whole ordeal, VIII acted so nonchalantly, so carefree and, dare she say, friendly. But it was all a ruse. In time, Dexné came to understand that Axel killed Vexen to gain the trust of Larxene and Marluxia, so that he could freely move among them and discover their plans for overthrowing the Organization.

But Zexion's death could not be explained.

Dexné had observed in numb horror as Axel goaded the replica of Riku into absorbing the last of The Cloaked Schemer's power. VI had just recently been defeated by the real Riku, and could do nothing to defend himself – just as Vexen had been beaten by Sora, and could do nothing against the fire.

"So sorry, Zexion." The green of Axel's eyes seemed to glow eerily in the dark, shadowy room. "But you just found out way too much."

Found out what? What was going on? The gears of Dexné's mind went into overdrive. They produced many explanations, but one stood out: Axel and Saïx.

Just who were the real traitors in all this?

Though many of his actions were questionable, VIII did set the ball rolling for the proven traitors' downfall.

He let Naminé go. He walked over to a white birdcage – in it was a small stuffed figure resembling Naminé. He tapped the bars. He nearly made Dexné jump when he laughed. It was the first she ever heard from the Nobody.

"The actors are all in place," he said. "Now, Sora. Naminé. Riku. Marluxia. Larxene. It's about time you gave me one hell of a show!"

The Keyblade Hero was the one to slay them. First Larxene. Then Marluxia. Lexaeus fell to Riku. Zexion and Vexen were felled by Axel's hand, directly or not.

In the end, Axel was the only one who was left. Except that he wasn't.

Dexné remained. And she had seen it all.

* * *

She paced about in her room. Never before had she had such confliction when writing a report.

No chance to rest; she rushed to finish a report for Saïx – containing only information Axel gave her – and hand it to him before Axel returned. But that was easy. What was giving her stress was the report she had to write for the Superior.

Axel's actions at Castle Oblivion bordered on traitorous – were traitorous if her guess that he and Saïx were in cahoots was correct.

Reports were usually easy for her. State what she saw, relay what was. That's all. But this time… if she were to divulge the whole truth, it could very well end in VIII's execution. That was something… she did not want.

The shards of her memories had been nothing but a source of curiosity, a keen interest to know what had once been – who she was, who Axel and Saïx were…

Now the shards were cutting her.

She had never lied to the Superior, never dreamed of it. She didn't want to. Not now. Not ever.

Besides, who was to say her memories were even real? Seeing Naminé redo Sora's memory instilled a paranoia in Dexné. Even if Naminé never touched Dexné's mind, what proof was there to show the mind had not fabricated all on its own?

…Would Axel know? If she were to pull down the hood, would he recognize her? What would his reaction be?

Suddenly a gunshot of realization struck her. A voice, deep down inside her, told her something: she had been a terrible, _terrible_ friend. She didn't know why, she had no idea where the notion came from. But there it was. Something must have gone wrong. Something she didn't yet remember. If by some chance Axel were to recognize her, what guarantee was there his reaction would be a pleasant one?

Then she recalled Vexen bursting into flames, remembered the sound of Zexion's futile pleas. And instinct told her to stay far away from Axel.

Dexné clutched her head. How was she possibly supposed to process all these thoughts? Her brain was clogging, the gears stammering.

"_Hey_," said the echo of a far off memory, "_stop acting like a robot_."

She slammed her forehead into the wall. Stop, she willed. Stop – stop!

She could not withhold, would not. The Superior was counting on her.

"_You carry matches with you?" _Her voice. So young and inquisitive.

_"Yeah, don't tell anyone." _Lea's voice. Confident, playful even.

_"...May I ask why?"_

_"'Cause I'll get in trouble."_

_"No, why you carry them."_

_"I dunno. I think they'll come in handy."_

_"Okay."_

_"Don't tell."_

_"…Even if you were to burn the school down, I wouldn't say anything."_

_"Geez, - - -, I don't think I'd go THAT far!"_

Dexné slid down the wall, looking out the large square window that showed nothing but a black, dreary sky. For the first time since forever, distress marred her face.

* * *

**…**

**A/N: The reason many of you mistook Dexné for a Dusk in the first chapter was because I had actually considered making her one. But as I continued to plan, I realized a Dusk couldn't take the story as far as I wanted it to go – or in the same direction.**

**Be aware that Dexné will not always recall memories in chronological order. I try to hint via a sentence or two when it happened in correlation to other recollections, but I won't always do that. It won't be that important. Just so you know chapter 1 was more of a prologue. Chapter 2 was where it really started. **

**If this ever gets too confusing, let me know. And please let me know what you think in general.**

**Fun Fact: There really are horizontal slits at the top of the rooms in C.O. You can see them in cutscenes.**

**Fun Fact #2: Axel really does say "hell" in the Gameboy Advance version of COM. It's funny 'cause it's Disney.**

**Fun Fact #3: Kingdom Hearts taught me how to read roman numerals. :P**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'd like to thank MissKitty and A for reviewing the last chapter. At first, when no one reviewed, I thought no one liked it and that perhaps I had taken a wrong turn in the story. I was trying to figure out what it was, and if I should scrap chapter 3 to start over. But then MissKitty and A saved the day! Thank you both so much for taking the time to let me know you enjoyed it!**

**...**

* * *

**::IV::**

Consciousness waxed and waned. When it was waning, she dreamed of times gone by.

There was once a gym class that was designated "free reign" for the day. The classes were combined, taken outside, and told they could do whatever sport they wanted – as long as they really participated. No standing around chatting, pretending to work.

The gym teachers were being lazy, Dexné thought. After all, hardly any of them were fit, and one was already sitting, reading an orange book that had a red cancel sign printed on the back of it.

The girls migrated toward things like volleyball or kickball. The boys went for things like baseball and wrestling. There were other sports too, but Dexné didn't pay a lot of attention. She was the one standing around awkwardly, not knowing where to go or what to do. It seemed embarrassment and confliction were daily occurrences for her.

One of the teachers started strutting over to her, likely about to scold her for standing idle, when Lea came running over. "Hey, what're you doing all by yourself?" The question was rhetorical. She was always by herself, and he liked to point it out like it was an error of some sort. "C'mon, you can come play with us."

Dexné didn't give herself the chance to look where he pointed before following him, her eye trained warily on the teacher as he stopped his pursuit and returned to sitting with his coworkers. When she brought her attention forward again she was stunned to find herself amongst a group of boys. One she immediately recognized as Isa. The rest she didn't know.

"It's cool guys," Lea said, like it was no big deal, "she's with me."

The next thing she knew, a brown lemon-shaped ball was being pressed into her hands. Lea hastily described what she was supposed to do. Meanwhile the other boys were staring at her unimpressed. She was a pinball and they were bowling balls. Intimidation crept in her veins; fight or flight was activating.

She was going to get run over, wasn't she?

"Hut, hut, hike!" someone shouted, and Dexné took off.

"No, - - -!" Lea yelled after her. "The other way! Run the other way!"

She whirled, and almost got bulldozed by one of the burlier guys. Panicked instinct usurped control of her body, and she twisted out of the way just in time before sprinting in the direction Lea indicated. Her strong legs slammed the ground, pushing her over spans of grass – effectively making her strides long despite her legs being short, at least when compared to the legs of other girls.

They'd been split into two teams. One side was trying to tackle her, the other tried to guard her. Isa was holding back two boys, and he didn't seem to be breaking a sweat at all. A couple of her other teammates were trying to divert the focus of the opposition. One guy almost got her, but Lea rammed into him at the last moment. Dexné dodged or outran the rest. She sprung, she twirled, she leaped, she skirted just out of reach every time.

"Run, Cheetah, run!" Lea cheered.

"Go," Isa urged a tad viciously. "Go!"

She was winded and her side cramped, but she responded to them and pushed herself faster.

"Yes! Touchdown!" an unfamiliar boy crowed.

"What's she…?"

"- - -!" Lea called. "Stop! You can stop now!"

She stopped all right. She ran herself straight into the field goal post, the metal clanking as she smacked into it.

Her back met grass and she gazed dazedly at a blue sky. Then she was staring up at Lea's face as he leaned over her. "You okay?!"

"…Affirmative," she supplied stiffly. "Yes."

A grin washed away his wide-eyed concern. "You dorky robot."

They played again. Some of the guys took after Lea in calling her _Cheetah_. And in those moments she was… glad.

But then she heard one boy with short brown hair whisper, "She's pretty good. Think we can step it up?"

"Nah, man," replied the yellow haired burly boy. "One tackle would send her to the hospital. She can't dodge forever."

Burly Boy was right. She was fast, but she couldn't take a hit. How she knew that, she didn't know. But she wanted to find out.

It seemed being in-between sleep and wakefulness gave her better access to her past, to the subconscious lying beneath, and she was able to slightly steer her mind, attempting to take a detour from the gym memory. But as she tried a black fog stopped her. The black fog could not be seen through, and it effectively cloaked the particular shards Dexné sought. Unsuccessful, Dexné's mind returned to where it was.

The sinking sensation moved in her chest. The boys were going easy on her. So that was why they looked at her the way they did when Lea introduced her. Like she was an inconvenience. When she realized this, she wanted to leave. She wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. She wished she had stayed in her shadow.

But then… she saw Lea smiling. And she couldn't just walk away from that. He invited her, he seemed glad she was there. It was right then she realized disappointing Lea was far worse than disappointing herself. And, carefully observing the expressions and body language of the others, she deemed no one _hated _her presence. They all genuinely looked to be having fun. She must have been providing a challenging chase, or else she'd have picked up on resentment.

Then she looked to Isa. She… couldn't really tell where he stood. He seemed content in the moment. She caught him glancing at Lea, caught the upward tug of his mouth, and almost caught an eye-roll. Lea was happy, and that must have been enough for Isa.

Despite her previous thoughts of inadequacy, she was slightly disenchanted when the class was over. In fact, the thoughts lost grip when she actually did get caught a couple times nearing the end. Isa had managed to grab her arm and pull her to the ground. She made sure to pop right back up like nothing happened, and that dispersed the other boys' hesitation. They were nice enough not to full out tackle her, but she did get yanked down by the arm or tripped up at the leg. Really, it became less a game of football and more a game of Catch the Cheetah.

Dexné was able to see more shards of memory, of other times in gym and elsewhere. Usually she awkwardly stood off to the side, too afraid of humiliation to do anything. But whenever she had a class with Lea and Isa, they'd encourage her.

"I'll race ya," Lea would say on the track. Or, sometimes, "I'll catch you this time!" And when she was morose and in need of more prodding, he'd say, "Oh, come on, - - -, is this really all you can do?" That would irritate her; get her moving, if only to defy the lowered expectation. When that happened, Lea would grin and say something about the "spark" in her eyes, which she didn't fully understand. But it made him happy, and that kept her going.

As a result, Dexné actually participated, actually tried her best. A gym teacher even praised them once for their effort. But she wasn't doing it for the grade. She did it because… it was fun. Lea had turned it from a chore and into a game. Because of him, and because of Isa too, Dexné was able to run farther and faster before succumbing to fatigue.

Isa became somewhat of a silent, steady support. He'd run alongside them, keeping them in check in case they slowed.

"Is that all you can do? A bit more and you'll almost be as fast as my grandmother," he once said mockingly.

Yet Lea smiled and retorted, "My great-grandmother moves faster than your granny."

Dexné still couldn't understand such banter. It was like they were fighting, but they weren't. Not really. They were… play fighting, it seemed. She wondered how one balanced such precarious exchanges. Where does one draw the line? What was truly insulting and what wasn't? Erring on the side of caution, she stayed out of it. Instead she used it as a chance to push ahead of them, since they were preoccupied with besting each other. They quickly notice, however, and surged forward to keep up. She won the race by a margin.

They stood in a triangle at the finish line, all breathing heavily. Lea was leaning on his knees. Isa stood tall, as always, and took deep breaths to recompose. Dexné had her hand pressed to a cramp at her side. It was then her brain spit up a retort to their banter. She mulled over saying it, trying to calculate the outcome.

Foreseeing no backlash, she spoke to both, saying, "My grandmother's dead… and she still moves faster than you two."

Lea and Isa stared at her in surprise, and she immediately regretted speaking. Her hands went clammy, the blood dropped out of her face. She shouldn't have mentioned the dead – _bad move, bad move, bad, stupid, stupid—_

But then Lea's eyes lit up, and a devilish grin split his face. He whirled on Isa and shouted, "_Burn!_"

"She was talking to you, too, _loser_." Isa smirked mirthfully, and Dexné could tell he wanted to roll his eyes. Apparently he considered himself far too mature for such an action, and settled for closing his eyes instead.

Dexné jumped when Lea clapped her on the back.

"You're learning," he said proudly. She nearly blushed, the fluttery feeling kicking her in the gut. It wasn't that big of an accomplishment. Little children knew how to talk; little children knew how to bicker playfully. Why hadn't Dexné learned? Nevertheless, she… she was proud too… just a little.

The memories faded as consciousness waxed, and present-time Dexné opened her eyes. She groggily glanced at the dim white light of the digital clock. Seeing that it was nowhere near mission time, she slipped back into oblivion. She didn't get to sleep during her mission at Castle Oblivion. Her body was exhausted, but her mind put up a fight, shoving her back and forth in and out of sleep.

"Gray your favorite color?" came Lea's voice, the echo of another memory. He was sitting next to her in the hall, before the start of school.

"What? No." Her brow furrowed in thought. "Why?"

"You wear it a lot. Brown, too. And black and white. You should wear more color; I bet you'd look nice in it."

The next day she tried dressing more colorfully.

Lea stopped in front of her, looking down at where she sat. "Holy—what happened, - - -?"

She peered up innocently. "Huh?"

"You look like someone dragged you through a skittles factory!" He almost laughed, but held it back.

"But… you said wear more colors."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Balance, - - -, balance. You went from grayscale to rainbow vomit."

"…But… how?"

"I can't believe I know more about putting an outfit together than a girl," Lea grumbled, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I blame my sisters."

Dexné woke again, fell to sleep again.

Now her mind was showing her at lunch with Lea and Isa. She was glaring a hole through her sandwich. She was thinking deeply about a story she read, the contents of which were non-fiction. It had been a dark, perilous story of survival.

"You okay there, - - -?" Lea gave her a wary side stare. "Or do you just really hate ham and cheese."

"…If we were all stranded on a snowy mountain peak, with no way down… would you resort to cannibalism to survive?"

Isa stopped his fork halfway to his mouth, then put it down.

Lea actually considered the question. He shrugged. "Maybe."

Isa scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me. You're the pickiest eater I've ever known – there's no way you'd be able to stomach it."

"Hey, if it were a matter of survival—"

"You'd try it and immediately throw up," Isa finished.

"Well," Lea nudged him, "what about you, Isa? Think you could?"

The teen in question frowned. "I could do whatever it takes to survive… but I wouldn't have to cannibalize anyone. I'd find a way off the mountain."

"She said," the redhead emphasized, "there's no way off the mountain."

"I'd _make_ a way," was the bluenette's sure reply.

"I couldn't," Dexné quickly interjected, before they got into a real argument. "I'd rather eat dirt first. Or bugs."

Lea looked at her skeptically. "On a snowy mountain?"

"...I'll be the first to die, then you. Isa would ration our remains until help arrived; he'd be the sole survivor."

Isa stared down at his lunch, then discreetly pushed it away.

"Like we'd let each other die!" Laughter was in Lea's voice, as if he thought she was telling a joke. "But seriously, c'mon. The three of us? We could survive anything!"

The people in the story had thought so too, Dexné mulled. Yet nearly all of them died before rescue came. But never mind. She didn't want to be the morbid realist, so she just nodded and said, "Yes, we would find a way." She brightened. "We could make a rope by tying together everyone's pants."

"There ya go! That's perfect."

"Because we don't need pants in freezing temperatures," muttered Isa.

Dexné remembered another time in school, during a study hall. She had on a faded raspberry colored shirt and a long beige skirt. It was the most colorful she'd been in months, excluding her rainbow vomit escapade.

Lea scratched his head and groaned. "I hate this subject!"

Dexné looked over at his paper. The objective was to identify all adjectives in an extremely wordy paragraph.

Dexné pointed to a word. "That one. It's modifying the noun." She continued to point out what he should highlight, relating why each time. "This is describing the scent… That's describing the feel of the earth…"

"You're pretty smart," he said after the worksheet was complete.

"Really? In algebra, I struggle just to get a C."

"Aw, algebra's not that hard." He smiled slyly. "Tell you what; I'll help you with algebra if you'll help me," he cast a withering glance at his paper, "with this stuff."

"'Kay," she agreed amiably. "But I'll have you know I do not process math quickly. The multitude of numbers overloads my brain."

He grinned, nudging her lightly. "Robot."

The beads of memories urgently strung themselves together without her consent. It was as if her subconscious was desperately trying to influence the decision she had yet to make.

* * *

Her sleep was likeable to a trampoline; she constantly rose and fell. She gave up around 4:30 in the morning.

She got up and did the things she had been too exhausted to do the night before, when she had come home from C.O. She washed and changed clothes, pulled out a different coat from her closet and put it on. She felt better after that. She disliked going on long missions without bathing, with her skin and clothes feeling more grimy and oily as the days dragged on. But now at least she was clean. However, she was still dizzy and fatigued, both from a fitful sleep and lack of food. She needed more water, too. What little she had at Castle Oblivion hadn't been enough.

Intent on visiting the kitchen, Dexné zipped her coat and was about to pull up her hood when she caught sight of a ghost in her window. The ghost, she swiftly realized, was nothing more than her faint reflection casted off the glass. Her tired eyes, shadowed and bruised looking, stared back at her.

_I did this to me. _

The intrusive thought was sudden, and took Dexné by surprise. Did she just… scold herself? It must be a result of rough sleep. She shook her head to clear her mind, her damp, limp hair barely moving with the motion. Her reflection did likewise, and then resumed staring.

She remembered what she looked like as a Somebody. As a Nobody, there weren't many differences. Weary shadows clung around her puffy, reddened eyes. Her complexion was more ashen. She was taller. And she could tell she was older. Exactly how old, she didn't know. She couldn't remember her original name, let alone her birthday.

She sighed and pulled her hood into place, tucking her hair down the back of the coat. Now there was nothing to be seen; exactly how she preferred it.

It was deathly quiet on her end of the castle. Not even a Dusk stirred. She imagined it would be a lot quieter on the other ends as well, considering nearly half their numbers were eliminated…

That brought her attention back to finishing her report for the Superior.

She recorded everything.

Everything from the Keyblader's entrance to Marluxia's demise and all that occurred in-between and after, up until Dexné left the castle.

But… there were a few minor differences.

_Vexen perished after his battle with Sora._

_Zexion met his end at the hands of Riku._

And that wasn't a lie. Vexen did die after fighting the Keybearer. Riku – or his replica – did kill Zexion. She just left out the little detail that Axel incinerated IV, his defeated comrade, and that he goaded the replica into absorbing VI, for reasons Dexné couldn't fathom.

It was because of all those little memories. She couldn't bring herself to include what Axel did; the possibility of him being executed was too high. Not to mention it would throw Saïx under scrutiny as well.

There was the possibility that her memories weren't real, that she'd just conjured them up for whatever reason. But until she was absolutely sure… she was going to play things on the safe side.

It wasn't an easy decision for her. She had always relayed _everything_ to the Superior before. And now… she almost felt treacherous. But she justified her action. It was okay, because she would personally keep watch over Saïx and Axel. If whatever they were planning got too far, she'd step in and stop it before it reached the Superior. The mere threat of her should make them back down. Hopefully. Dexné was called the _Devouring Shadow_ for a reason.

She went straight to the Superior, handed him her finished report, and when he dismissed her, she bowed deeply in respect and left. He hadn't said much, and she hoped he didn't suspect she was hiding anything. She showed no signs of such. A good thing about being a Nobody: emotions couldn't trip her up, as they had done so many times in the past.

At 7 o'clock Dexné went to the Grey Area to receive a new mission. She didn't see Axel, and assumed he was finishing up at C.O. Most likely retrieving Naminé. He'd probably be back in the evening.

Saïx handed Dexné her new mission brief without a word. She looked it over and then promptly headed to Halloween Town. She was to track down a group of Neoshadows and get rid of them. Neoshadows, being Pureblood Heartless, had no hearts to collect and therefore were a waste of Roxas's time.

Dexné never liked Halloween Town. It made her uncomfortable the first time she performed recon there and had since. Similar to the way she reacted to Marluxia's rose scent, the sight of graveyards made Dexné recoil. She did not like the tall skeleton man or the zombie-looking creatures either. She tended to keep her head down, her eyes away from the direct sights of the haunting world.

She drifted through shadows, climbed over walls, ascended locked gates – went everywhere and anywhere in search of the Heartless. She wanted to get this over with and _leave already. _The uneasiness of the world's atmosphere bore down on her like the weight of a tombstone.

Finally she found them, out in the middle of a grave field. Their glowing yellow eyes stood out against the night, like tiny bobbing lanterns. As the mission brief said, there were five Neoshadows.

Dexné did her best not to step on ground where the dead lay below, but she realized she would not be able to entertain her strange… reluctance… once in range of the Heartless. Neoshadows were formidable, and far more strategic than regular Shadow Heartless. She could not limit herself to specific patches of ground; she would need it all to evade.

For all their cunning, they hadn't noticed her yet. Her feet pressed down on the withered grass without so much as a whisper. She got closer, closer… and then closed the gap with a burst of speed. Black glass-like shards appeared and swiftly merged to form a long spiked chain that trailed out behind Dexné. She slid to a stop and used the momentum from her sprint to swing the chain before her, whipping a Neoshadow across the face. The spikes ripped little shreds of inky-black flesh from it. A split second later and Dexné was forced to dodge, leaping and rolling forward before dashing into another run.

With the element of invisibility and surprise gone, the Neoshadows converged on her. Vanquished were her misgivings of tombs and untouchable ground. Instinct took over; thought process shut down. She used the standing headstones as shields. She dove behind one and the long black claws of a Neoshadow engraved the stone. She rolled forward, the claws of another raking up the dirt and grass where she'd been crouched.

She ran circles around them, and they around her. Out of all the Heartless, Neoshadows were known for their teamwork. Dexné was seeing it firsthand, as the dark creatures worked together to herd her into each other's claws. A couple Neoshadows charged from behind, two more came in from the sides, and Dexné had no choice but to rush toward the one coming in front. She tried to dash and roll past its side before it closed her in. She made it out just in time, but not without injury. Hot searing pain cut down her arm where its claws had caught her. She felt the rush of warm blood spread down her coat sleeve.

Instinct and adrenaline violently urged her past the pain. They continued their game of cats and mouse, a dance of shadows in the pale moonlight. Their slashing claws inflicted far more damage than her lashing chains – an unconventional weapon that was more useful for ascending and descending obstacles than battle. They kept on with their strategy of herding and boxing her in.

She was outnumbered, she was physically weaker, and she was rapidly growing tired.

But little did they know she was also herding them.

Blood pounded in her ears as she leapt to the side, just out of grasp. One Neoshadow pooled into the dark, then came up and nicked her leg. She ran, they pursued. Steadily she was leading them farther from the town and further into the field.

But she needed to end it soon; she was bleeding in multiple places.

Finally, they came to the edge of the field, where black trees stretched their fingers up into the sky. Now she did not run. She stood, chains hanging limply from her wrists, and allowed them to encircle her once more.

Dexné had three skills. Her primary skill was remaining undetected. Her second skill was evasion. And her third… was the dead last resort. To be used only when absolutely necessary, only when in the right place at the right time. Now, away from anything important, exhausted and bleeding, and with the enemy surrounding her, the time had come.

She wished she was strong enough – strong like the other Organization members – to be able to take out opponents without resorting to the third skill. If she could feel it, Dexné would be frustrated. She hadn't even been able to defeat one, as she had hoped.

The Neoshadows fenced her, creeping in for the kill.

Dexné opened it.

She made a sort of circle with her arms, placing one above the other in front of her chest like she was holding a ball between them. In the center of the circle, at the center of her chest, bloomed a pitch black dot. The black dot immediately made its presence known. Everything around Nulla, from the Neoshadows to the ground and air, was relentlessly pulled to her, to that black circle. The grass and dirt beneath Dexné's feet was ripped up and consumed. The air around her shrieked as it was swallowed – it was a loud screech that kept cutting off abruptly only to immediately begin again, like a broken record without end. The trees closest to her were bending toward her; rocks from yards away were hastily rolling to her.

Standing so near to Dexné, the Neoshadows had long since been devoured, dragged into the black chasm. Nothing was seen going in, however. Images, made of light, could not be seen once past the point of no return. The same was true for sound – it cut off once past that point. Red, the color that traveled the farthest, was the last hue to be seen from the things devoured.

She struggled to close it. Her entire body trembled. Gradually, the black circle shrunk.

When it finally shut, Dexné had her arms wrapped around herself. Pebbles and dirt clods hit her feet, wind slapped her, larger rocks rolled to a stop, smaller ones flew at and pelted her, and most of the trees snapped upright. A few inflexible trees couldn't take the change, and deafening cracks were Dexné's only warning. She barely managed to stumble out of their way as they crashed to the ground.

The entire world was spinning and rocking. Dexné wavered on her feet before falling backward. She stared up at the moon, black spotting her vision. Her ears fluctuated from sound to no sound. Her mind was a scattered mess of jumbled, incoherent thoughts. All this went on for a few minutes. Then, steadily, all returned to normal.

All of that… for a few crummy Heartless.

Sighing deeply Dexné sat up, cautiously rising to her feet. She stared through the branches of the fallen trees, at the center of a small depression. It was where she had stood; it spanned about ten feet wide, the earth barren dirt and rock.

Dexné, Nulla of Organization XIII. The Devouring Shadow. Her "weapon" was spiked chains. Her attribute was gravity. And her limit was the Black Void. It was a force that differentiated between neither foe nor ally. Anything or anyone too close would be dragged in. She was usually sent on solo missions; if a comrade was near, she couldn't use it.

In essence, she was the trashcan of the Organization. The secret weapon they kept in the back of the closet. If it was in their way, and they couldn't make use of it, then Nulla was sent in to devour it. It was what she was sent to Castle Oblivion for. If all else failed, she was to devour the traitors. It would have damaged whatever room she was in, and perhaps brought down the ceiling of said room or ate out the floor. Fortunately Axel was able to take care of everything, and the Void hadn't been needed.

She walked, intent on RTC-ing now that the mission was complete, only to stumble and fall flat on her face. Pain blossomed through her nose and cheeks. Dexné twitched her arms. With great difficulty and pain, she reached into one of her coat's hidden pockets, retrieving an elixir. It wasn't an ordinary elixir, which would be taken orally. The one she pulled out was like a compact syringe.

She struggled, pressing it to a vein in her arm. The device activated; a needle jabbed out, administering the medicine. A cool, tingling sensation flooded through her veins. She replaced the capsule in her pocket, and while doing so the elixir had already begun to take effect. The gashes she received from the Neoshadows were stitching themselves together, her body slowed its quivering, and her head started clearing.

Better, she stood and scanned the area.

No one saw. She did well, she thought. She was able to lure the Neoshadows far from the town. Not being seen by the denizens of the worlds was a top priority. It wasn't always this easy.

Mission accomplished, Dexné wobbled into a Dark Portal.

* * *

Dexné came out of the portal into the Grey Area. She was heading for her room when she was stopped by one of the newest members.

Roxas gawked with big blue eyes. "Who are you?"

She didn't wish to stop and chat, but she couldn't ignore a direct query from another member. "…I am Dexné, Nulla."

"Oh… Are you new?"

"No, I have been here for a long time – long before you." She just wanted to go pass out in her room. But before she could even raise her foot to walk away, XIII asked another question.

"How come I've never seen you around? Where's your spot in the Proof of Existence?"

The Proof of Existence was a room in the castle. It housed stationary portals that, when passed through, would take one to a specific region of the castle, depending on which portal one used. Numbers II through XIII all had their own portal that would take them to their preferred dwelling. It must have been one of the first rooms Axel showed Roxas – to better explain his colleagues.

"…I am kept separate. Visiting my end of the castle is highly discouraged." Dexné imagined many of the weapon panels displayed at the base of the portals had turned from blue to red – indicating a deceased member. The Chilly Academic. The Taciturn Stalwart. The Cloaked Schemer. The Graceful Assassin. The Savage Nymph. All gone.

"Why?" Roxas asked many questions. He wasn't like Dexné, who did as told without inquires.

Dexné could explain the entire reason, but that would take up too much time. So she settled for the simplest answer. "I am beneath all other members – a tool, nothing more."

With that, she quietly excused herself before she could be interrogated further, leaving a bewildered XIII in her wake.

She did not have a place in the Proof of Existence. But neither did Xemnas or Xion. The Superior was the opposite of Dexné – he was above all members. As for why Xion didn't have one, Dexné didn't know.

Only Dusks ventured into Dexné's chamber. Rarely a member would. They were wary of the Devouring Shadow.

But in truth she was more wary of them.

In the grand scheme of things, gravity was actually one of the weakest attributes. Other forces, such as electricity, magnetism, heat of flame, tsunami, or wind gusts often exerted stronger influences; they changed things in life. The lay of the land could be burned away, quakes could raise mountains, lightning could split rock, wind could blow it all away, and water could wash it clean.

Gravity, on the other hand, was the silent constant. One never really acknowledged it… until they fell.

Again Dexné thought of the Neoshadows. If she could, she would feel stupid and weak. None of the others would've had to resort to their limit. Well, except Demyx, perhaps. It wasn't that he was weak; it was that he didn't want to apply the effort. As for the other members, she could picture them: Xigbar raining down bullets, Xaldin stirring up cyclones, Saïx decimating everything in his path, Axel's burning chakrams, slicing and searing, and Luxord… confusing them with time and cards.

Dexné was not ignorant to any of her comrade's strengths. All of them had their own special attribute – elemental attacks that Dexné was feeble against. A quick lightning strike could deal fatal damage before she even attempted to use the Void. Dexné had always been extra cautious around Larxene, as her speed and power posed the most danger. Dexné didn't have to worry about Number XII's temper anymore... However, Xaldin was fast, and the wind that carried the six lances could easily harm her too.

Dexné's only true form of defense was evasion – she could not use magic. Why, no one knew. It might have had something to do with the Void.

How it grated her nerves when a magic-using Heartless caught her legs in ice.

She pondered these things as she traversed the never-ending halls, her mind taking a turn towards sleep.

Then she caught sight of Saïx from the corner of her eye.

It didn't take her long to guess where he was going.

She remembered her silent vow to the Superior. She clenched and unclenched her fists, debating. Suppressing a sigh, she turned heel and followed, keeping the shadows close. As she predicted, he was heading towards Axel's room.

_Not a sound, not a sound_, was the mantra repeating in Dexné's head as she trailed far behind Number VII. At many points she halted, second-guessing her chance of success. Saïx was no fool, and to top it off he was one of the physically strongest in the Organization. Dexné remembered nervousness, and knew she should be feeling it now. Thankfully, her lack of a heart prevented her from trembling.

The Luna Diviner had already entered Axel's room; the metal door was shut tight. Dexné crept closer, hoping to hear something, anything. She got as close as she dared. It wasn't very close, as she didn't want to trip the mechanical door into opening. She could imagine it: getting too close to the door, it opening automatically at her presence, leaving her standing there like an igit in full sight.

Fortunately, she was a little smarter than most gave her credit for. She couldn't hear anything, though. Then she saw a small vent and crept towards that. She kneeled next to it, and leaned her head down.

Luckily for her, it transmitted faint echoes.

"_And…chamber…find it_?" Sounded like Saïx. She pressed her ear to the vent, straining her hearing like never before.

"Come on, I would've told you that much." Axel's voice. "I gotta hand it to you… About Marluxia being one of the traitors. You knew exactly what was up from the start."

"Hmph," huffed Saïx. "I merely rounded up and sent off the ones who were getting in the way."

"Whoa there, was I one of those you wanted to erase? I worked hard for you, you know. Pawning off Nulla wasn't easy."

"…Are you sure that's what you did?"

Dexné's physical heart skipped a beat.

"You saw her come back, right?"

"Yes. But… she took longer than usual on her report."

"She was tried," Axel assured. "It's fine."

There was a pause, and then, "For your sake, I hope you're right. Good to see you made it back safe."

She could sense the conversation was coming to an end. Dexné wavered, torn between getting out of there and squeezing for a little more information. A few seconds later, and her indecision rewarded her. For once.

"I disposed of Zexion, by the way," said Axel.

That was all the proof she needed. They were planning something together all right. In one swift motion, she was on her feet and silently speeding down the hall. Just as she turned the corner, she heard the mechanical _swoosh_ of the door opening.

Further down the hall, she broke into a run. She had to get to her room and lay low. She had to note—

She slammed into a body as she turned another corner. Her instincts screeched loudly, tearing at her belly, pushing her into fight or flight.

She stumbled back, and then let out a long sigh as she saw who it was.

"Hey there, Nulla!" Demyx waved. "I was hoping I'd run into you. Can I ask a favor?"

Dexné rubbed her pained nose; it had collided with IX's chin. "What is it?" she asked.

Being beneath all other members, everyone had an extent of authority over Dexné. They could command her; tell her to do things for them. To an extent. Only the Superior could dictate her use of the Black Void. The others, however, could shove a mission they didn't want onto her – as long as Dexné had the abilities to fulfil the goals. Demyx had a habit of abusing this privilege. Her title of Devouring Shadow didn't seem to deter him.

"I got this mission—" _Here we go again,_ thought Nulla at IX's words—"I've been putting off, and Saïx said if it isn't done tomorrow he's gonna pit me against a giant Heartless. Anyway, I've got a _ton _of things to do – I won't get to it. Here're the papers."

He took the mission brief from his pocket and pushed it into her stomach. She was forced to take it. "It's a recon mission in that nasty place and I think you'd be waaaay better for it. You should be the same thing I am – so no problem!"

If it wasn't a problem, why wasn't he doing it himself? She had other things to do on top of her ordinary missions. Things like overseeing the Dusks in daily chores. Many times she had to step in when the Dusks messed up the laundry or burned dinner. She might as well _be a Dusk_, as involved with them as she was. And now there was Demyx, smiling pleasantly, expecting her to take his mission. Well, he had another thing coming…!

"As you say," she ended up rasping despite herself.

"Thanks a lot! I owe you one!" And then he was on his way, off to play his sitar more than likely.

Oh, no, he owned her more than one.

She was so tired. At least it could wait until tomorrow. She tucked the papers in a pocket and went for her room. But then she stopped suddenly.

What had Demyx meant... the same thing he was?

* * *

**...**

**A/N: This story is a test for myself. I'm trying to see if I can write a "powerful" character without her becoming a "Mary Sue." I will be relying on reader's feedback to see if I'm doing it right. I've read writer's guides on this. Let's see if I can do it.  
**

**So what do you think? If this ever starts getting uninteresting then, please, let me know!  
**

**I also welcome constructive criticism. If something's wrong with the story, please tell me why so I can attempt fixing it.**

**Thank you for reading.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**::V::**

"You are not obligated to take his mission." The wrongly yellow eyes of Saïx narrowed. "You do realize you can refuse."

Dexné did not reply. She stood silently, waiting for him to give the go-ahead.

Number VII sighed. "Go, then. But you will still complete your regular missions in addition to this."

"As you say," she whispered wearily before departing. As she crossed into the Dark Portal, she vaguely heard Saïx say something about having a _talk _with that _good-for-nothing_. She didn't hear the rest, as the portal snapped shut behind her. (The fleeting thought that maybe Saïx was defending her was a nice one, but a thought all it was. She swiftly brushed it away. He was likely displeased at the setback their lazy colleague caused.)

Dexné traversed the Dark Corridor, moving steadily to her destination—a world which Demyx was supposed to have performed recon on. Now the task fell to her. How hard was it to say _no_? Apparently too hard for Nulla.

Exiting the Dark Corridor, Dexné fell into the light of a new world. But something was wrong—something was strange. She did not enter it like other worlds. The transition was unlike anything she had experienced. She was growing, she was shrinking, she was stretching, she was shortening—she was being remolded. It all happened so fast that she didn't even get the chance to enter fight or flight at the perceived danger. It was over, and she was sprawled out on dry earth.

But she wasn't really sure what "she" was anymore. For a brief moment she thought she'd reverted into a Dusk, or other Lesser Nobody, but quickly realized that was not so.

Her hands were paws—she had claws. She felt the twitching of something, like the sensation of a leg or arm moving, but it was neither. It was a tail—she had a _tail_.

Dexné's mind had to process all of the changes. It was too much too fast, and so she lied there for a good while until her brain caught up.

Attempting to move had never been so difficult, so confusing. At first she tried to stand up as she usually did. Her current form, she found, was not made to support her weight in the human stance, and so she could not stand entirely upright, nor could she hold the position. She was forced to fall to all fours.

While trying to walk, Dexné felt like—or rather compared herself to—a crawling baby. She literally had to relearn. Two extra feet made all the difference it seemed.

It was trial and error. Lifting both right feet caused Dexné to fall over. However, if done fast enough (moving both right feet before swiftly switching to the left) she could move forward. But it was such an awkward and wobbly gait.

How could she complete her mission if she could not even walk? And if danger presented, how would she evade?

At last, Dexné remembered her books—the many books she read as a Somebody. One such book had contained documentation on horses, the various breeds, and their gaits. She knew for a fact she wasn't a horse, but a four-legged creature all the same. Right front foot was lifted with the left hind foot; left front foot with the right hind foot, and so on. That way two feet, diagonal from each other, were always on the ground and steadily supporting her weight. The result was a much smoother gait, a more fluid pace, though bouncier. But still, she lifted her paws too high, extended her limbs too long, and sometimes paws and legs clashed. She tripped over her own feet more than once.

Dexné was getting nowhere. She was thinking too much, trying to measure and calculate every movement. She needed to stop her human thought process and let natural instinct take over. Dexné closed her eyes and breathed. Then she moved.

It took some more practice, but she got the hang of it. Mostly. Her trot was still not secure—she kept randomly switching between a pace, a two-beat trot, and an amble. As for running… she rolled forward like a wheel when she tripped. Though, strangely, she found running easier to master. Perhaps the speed did not allow her time to choke in thoughts.

When Dexné settled into her new form, the reconnaissance began in earnest.

The sun beat down on the baked earth, and dry grasslands stretched as far as the eye could see. A pity, as Dexné had hoped to scope out a pool of water to gauge her reflection in. From what she could see of herself without said reflection, she was an agile creature covered in short dark blonde fur and speckled with black dots. She figured she was some kind of cat, but as the flexed her claws she found them unretractable—like a dog's.

Wanting to get the mission over with, Dexné pushed her theories to the backburner. She ran the best she could, getting better and more comfortable in her changed body with every stride. As she went she observed the world, the environment, and the creatures that inhabited it, tucking information away in her brain for the report she would later write. The dry grasslands (a savannah, she concluded) went on for miles. Even so, it wasn't long before she ran into some Heartless.

The world was indeed infected.

They were large, some almost dinosaur-like. Not knowing how to fight them or properly dodge in her current form, Dexné ran. She was fast—and going faster still. Faster, faster, until the ground beneath her paws became a fiery blur. She had left the Heartless far behind. Normally she could run on and on, but as an animal it seemed she could not. Her lungs burned; her entire body felt aflame. She was forced to stop, panting frantically for air.

The sun glared vehemently. It was hot, so hot and dry. A warm breeze pushed lazily and did nothing to cool her. She opened her mouth to yawn and tasted dust, could smell the baking dirt beneath her paws as she breathed in. Dexné knew then exactly why Demyx hadn't wanted the mission.

Wandering further, Dexné finally came across water—a muddy little puddle that looked like it had once been a larger pool. The world must be experiencing some kind of drought, she thought, looking down into the stagnant, dirty water. There her muddled reflection wavered unevenly in the liquid mirror, like a ghost that couldn't decide whether to stay or go. Black eyes stared back at her from a felid face, and two black stripes ran from the corner of her eyes down to her mouth—like black tear streams.

_"You should be the same thing I am," _Demyx had said.

In the back of her mind, Lea's voice echoed, _"Run, Cheetah, run!"_

Now Dexné understood what Demyx had meant. Number IX must have come to the world, saw how "nasty" it was, and gave up. But how had he known Dexné would also be a cheetah? Because they were both fast? A scoff tried to escape from Dexné's throat. Please. The only time Demyx was fast was when he was fleeing from his responsibilities.

Dexné continued her exploration of the vast savannah, making mental notes along the way. She surveyed the Heartless, taking special effort to memorize what types appeared where. Areas where Purebloods gathered would largely be ignored.

As Dexné trekked on, the terrain gradually changed. It grew rougher, rockier; cliffs and gorges were becoming prevalent. Flat areas were interrupted by slopes and drop-offs. Without thinking, Dexné made her way upwards. Belatedly she realized that—yes, she needed to be on high ground in order to get a good view of her surroundings. Sometimes it seemed her subconscious, her instinct, knew better than she did.

Standing atop a tall slope, Dexné saw a great rock formation off in the distance. It almost looked like a giant chair with the way it was shaped. The grass appeared greener there, and she could make out the blue of water. Deciding to head in that direction, she began her descent.

It was then she heard a loud, inhuman scream.

Dexné tensed, her widened eyes glazing the area. Lower down and far from her were two animals locked in combat. But, wait, no… Dexné squinted, looked closer. They were lions. A lioness and a cub. And it was hardly combat—the little cub was fighting for its life. Bewildered, Dexné watched. Why would a lioness attack her own young? Was it not hers?

The cub slipped out from under the lioness's large paw, running towards a sheer cliff. It screamed again, high-pitched and desperate, and this time, somehow, Dexné could understand.

"Help!" the cub screeched fearfully as the lioness gave chase. "Dad, Mom! Help! _Momma!_"

The last cry for its mother was beyond desperate. It skidded to a stop at the drop-off, dust and pebbles skittering down from the steep.

Dexné didn't know what she was doing, but her body started moving. She rushed down the rocky hill, her blunt claws giving traction so she did not slip or fall forward. She slid to a stop at the base, trying to take time to think and inspect the situation. Her body wanted to go, go—but her mind said _stop and think, you fool_. And so she was trapped, caught in an internal tug of war between logic and urgency.

The lioness had the cub back in her claws. It was too late.

Dexné was too far away to do anything anyway, and, besides, it wasn't part of her mission.

Then the cub screamed again, kept screaming. It should've been dead—such a little thing against a full grown adult. But then, looking closer, Dexné saw the glint of sharp, jagged teeth that shaped the savage lioness's grin—a feral, happy grin, like she was having fun.

She was toying with it.

But it was no game to the cub. Little paws swiped out in futile attempts of self-defense. Then, miraculously, the youngling wriggled free and leapt at the lioness—a final act of desperation. Its small fangs snagged onto her ear, ripping off a notch.

The lioness cried out and slapped the cub to the ground. Just like that, her giddy grin melted into a deadly snarl. The cub feebly scampered back—to the edge. There was nowhere to go.

The cub was wounded and bleeding—far worse than the superficial injuries of the lioness.

The cub let out one last strangled cry.

_Mom! Momma!_

Dexné heard it.

Mom…

Something in Dexné snapped; a memory that she couldn't quite remember, yet could somehow…"feel". It was the vicious slap of a cold wind that hit as one stepped out of their warm house.

The terrain flew by as Dexné raced it. Funny—she didn't remember starting.

Nulla honed in on the little cub, coming in from behind the lioness. Every aspect of the lioness's body language foretold death. But Dexné got there first.

It almost seemed to happen in slow motion, as if her mind could not efficiently process what was happening, as if it were a camera taking pictures on a battery quickly approaching its expiration.

Dexné's claws dug into the dirt, her long tail whipped as she abruptly pivoted beside the lioness, cutting in front of the female—right before the cliff. Dexné's hind quarters slid to the edge—forced by momentum—and she felt her back claws scratch at nothing but air for the briefest of seconds. Her front legs quivered mightily under the strain of keeping her grounded, the muscles aching as she pulled herself forward.

Dexné stooped her head down, jaws wide to scoop something up—it happened in the blink of an eye. Then she sped off.

The next thing Dexné's mind registered was a fur ball—the cub—in her mouth.

She raced along the vertical drop-off—solid earth on one side and a deadly fall on the other. The lioness was roaring in pursuit, but Dexné had left her far, far behind, in a literal trail of dust.

Even so, Dexné was a cautious creature no matter her form. The Nobody stuck to trotting cross rocks, and used her tail as a sweeper to avoid leaving tracks in the dust. She also doubled back a couple times before branching off new paths so that her scent trail would be thrown off.

Dexné had known better than to take on the lioness in a fight. Her books had told her lions were hundreds of pounds of muscle and one of the strongest big cats alive. The cheetah sacrificed such heavy muscling for speed. And so she used that speed instead—which she would, even as a human.

Adrenaline ebbed. She could feel and taste hair and blood on her tongue. Wrinkling her nose, she placed the cub down, then collected the debris in saliva before expelling it in a single, violent spit. The cub lied on the ground, gawking up at her in fear and delirium. His wounds were many.

Dexné's coat was gone—eaten up by the transformation, and with it her elixirs and potions. She pondered, precious seconds ticking by, then opened a Dark Portal.

The sensation of reverting to human form was just as disorienting and unsettling, but a humanoid body she was used to. Thankfully she was just as she was before—with her coat and supplies. Standing in the corridor, she reached into a pocket and pulled out an oral elixir. She emptied as much as she could into her mouth, holding it there, before putting the bottle away and returning to the savannah.

It wasn't easy holding onto anything during the morph, and she nearly sprayed the elixir out.

What had possessed Dexné to dribble the powerful healing medicine from her mouth onto the cub's wounds—what had possessed her to do _anything _that she was doing was a mystery to her. It was like her conscious mind had been shoved aside, and the subconscious had forced its way to the front—a stallion pushing the lead mare away in the face of strife.

What caused it to do that? It was not her fight, not her life in danger.

_Mom! Momma!_ she remembered.

Perhaps it was a sort of deranged maternal instinct, something that was engraved in her DNA whether she had a heart or not.

Limbs aching and blood burning, Dexné sat on her haunches, taking time to fill her breathless lungs, slow the pounding of her physical heart. In the meantime, the cub came to.

"You…" It stood on wobbly legs. "You saved me. I-I'll reward you. I'm a prince, you know!"

Dexné tilted her head slightly. A prince? The animals had an actual monarchy? Well, to be fair, she'd seen and heard stranger things from stranger worlds. The cub did seem to be male, as there was a tuff of reddish brown fur sprouting atop his head; the start of a mane. The rest of his coat was a pale gold, his muzzle was squarish, and his eyes were colored a rich mahogany. He must not be _too _young if his mane is coming in, Dexné thought. Still, he was small. Even so, he was stocky, and if he was allowed to reach adulthood…he would be a powerful lion, indeed. If he ever again met that lioness, as an adult, then she would be the one left begging for her life.

He seemed to be disturbed by her calculating silence. "Uh, my name's Kopa, by the way." His ears perked forward in interest. "What's yours?"

"…Dexné," she spoke at last, after studying him a moment longer. "Kopa. What are you doing out here?"

The cub brightened. "Monsters. I came to defeat the monsters!"

"Monsters…?"

"Yeah, I'm going to kill the monsters and protect the Pride Lands. Then everyone will see I'm not a little cub anymore." Kopa spoke with confidence.

Dexné didn't know how to respond to that, so she didn't. She simply got up and started walking away.

"Hey, wait! Wait!" Kopa scuttled after her. "I have to reward you. And aren't you interested in the monsters?"

Dexné was stopped by the seed of a sudden epiphany and the cub bumped into her hind leg. "Are you…speaking of the strange creatures that appear from nowhere?"

"Yeah! You've seen them, right? There's the ugly spiky ones, the ugly shadowy ones—" the cub went on, listing different Heartless.

Perhaps…he could actually help Dexné with her mission.

"What did you say this place was called again?" she inquired softly.

"The Pride Lands," Kopa replied, puffing his chest out. "And see that peak over there? That's Pride Rock."

* * *

The cub loved to talk. Such a loose tongue could be considered both good and bad. Good for those wanting to learn of the world and the inhabitants, so they may include that in their report; bad for those who want to keep their secrets and ways of life from the ears of outsiders.

Dexné walked with Kopa, and she listened to everything he had to say, though he tended to ramble. It was so much easier to listen to a denizen describe their own world, rather than sneak around and collect bits and pieces of it.

Dexné learned many things from the cub's babblings. Like a human child, Kopa was very open, honest, and trusting. And, like most children, he knew more than he let on. There was a saying that children should be seen, not heard. But Dexné found little truth to it. Kopa was spilling buckets of information. From the cub she learned of the lion prides, their skirmishes with the hyenas, the long drought, the battle of Pride Rock, and of the recent rains that poured over Pride Rock after the battle was won.

"Great Uncle Scar took over and ruined everything, but then my dad came back and…"

She didn't interrupt him as he bragged about his father, but the next chance she got she was going to steer the conversation towards the Heartless.

Kopa, however, never seemed to run out of breath. "And then the hyenas—"

"Kopa," Dexné had to interject, but did so softly as not to offend, "what about those strange creatures? The ones you were talking about earlier?"

Kopa paused (a miracle) and then lit up with excitement. "Oh, yeah! I've gotta get rid of those things. C'mon!" He bounded off hurriedly. Dexné followed at a languid, energy-conserving pace. She could walk faster than the cub could trot.

"I'm gonna be king next, you know," Kopa kept talking as they proceeded onward, "and everyone will see how brave and strong I am when I make those things run with their tails between their legs!"

Dexné didn't care about kings or secessions. In the grand scheme of things they were all just specks on a planet. What made one being greater than the other? From what Dexné remembered, people, and animals, no matter the type, couldn't be trusted—at least not easily. And so she made sure Kopa was taking her where she wanted to go. "Are we going where they gather? How many have you seen?"

"Yeah, I saw a bunch in this one spot just the other day." Kopa shot her a grin. "I'll get 'em good, so don't worry."

She realized he mistook her inquires for apprehension, and even spoke as to reassure her. Something in the back of Dexné's mind told her that was…sweet of him. She supposed she had always been an apprehensive kind of person in the past, so it would stand to reason she would let that "emotion" trickle into her word's tenor, though she hadn't meant to.

Surprisingly, Kopa hadn't said anything more; he seemed entirely focused on their destination, determination and excitement showing in his expression. She kept her eye on him, and kept a greater eye on their surroundings, to make sure they didn't stumble into a situation that could not be easily escaped.

It wasn't long before they came across the very beasts they sought.

The cluster he led Dexné to was large, and had a good variety. It had many of the new Heartless—ones that she needed to properly inspect and report on.

"I can take 'em," the cub declared proudly.

"Go, then," Dexné replied simply. A long stretch of silence followed, so she made the effort to actually look at Kopa. He was gawking happily at her, his smile so big she thought it'd tear his face.

"Really?" he asked. "You'd…you'd let me?"

"…Yes?" She wasn't really sure where this was going. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Someone actually believes I can do it," he spoke, mostly to himself, with awe. "I'm finally being treated like an _adult_."

Dexné's ears twitched backward in uncertainty (another strange sensation that she was not used to, considering humans have stationary ears). It wasn't that she believed in him… Truthfully, she didn't really care. He was small and fast and could distract the Heartless long enough for Dexné to fully observe their attack styles. And if he got hurt, well…perhaps it would teach him caution. But she kept such thoughts to herself; let the cub think what he wants.

"All right!" Kopa practically bounced with energy. "Just you watch, I'll have them begging for mercy in no time."

Watch she did.

But she did not sit down as she intended; her legs were stiff and ready to spring into action at any given moment. Again, her subconscious, or a piece of it, overtook. She watched that cub like a hawk, watched as he ran at a dino-like Heartless. She watched as he leapt and sank his fangs and claws into its hide. She watched as he then was thrown, and by the time the club-like tail came down to crush him, Dexné was already there. She picked him up by the scruff, carried, and tossed him out of harm's way. She commanded he _get up_ _quickly_ _and do as I do_, and together they ran circles around the Heartless, and the trails their paws made in the dust overlapped where they met at their intersections, creating strange circular designs on the earth—a dance of evasion and distraction.

When Dexné charged and slid under the Heartless's belly, tickling it with her tail, and therefore distracting it, she told Kopa to attack, to _go for the eyes_. He did, and even his little claws did damage to the powerful beast's sensitive organ of sight.

Successfully injured and cowed, the Heartless retreated.

But there were many more left. She recognized a losing situation when she saw it and, again, Dexné gathered the cub's scruff in her mouth and ran.

She didn't observe all she wanted—Kopa didn't last that long, didn't engage the Heartless in an evasive dance. She was sure he would've used his size as an advantage to dart and dodge, but…the fool just straight up attacked.

She could have let him take the hit, could have let him learn his lesson. So the question stood: why didn't she?

He was mumbling complaints when she set him down. Dexné spit out the hair that got caught on her tongue.

"Why'd we run?!" He was indignant, or seemed to be. But she saw through his front of false bravado—he was still shaken from almost being smashed. The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, making him want to run, to attack, to do _something_.

Dexné did not answer, she only stared. Eventually he calmed and could not meet her gaze anymore; his eyes lowered to the ground. "I thought you would have taken the size of your opponent into consideration," she said lowly. "Running in without thought can get you killed."

"I was trying to be brave…"

"There's a difference between bravery and stupidity, I'm sure." She watched with blank eyes as he sat down and hung his head. "…If you were king, as you so desperately want to be, and leading a group of…other animals…into a fight without planning, not only could you get yourself killed, but you could get your comrades killed as well. Is that what you want?"

"No…" He wouldn't look up.

Dexné studied him, wondering where all her words were coming from, and why she cared to impart them. "Shouldn't you…go home and learn the things you should be trying to prove before…coming out here and trying to prove them?" She spoke carefully, attempting to both console and persuade.

"No!" Kopa's eyes zipped to quickly look at her. "I can't go back a failure! I told my dad I was an adult and I'd take care of the Pride Lands."

"Oh. Did your father…agree to you being out here?"

The cub's response was to look away.

"He doesn't know where you are, does he?" Dexné deadpanned the question like an unfortunate statement. Kopa's lack of a reply was all the answer she needed. She frowned. "You're going to die out here, you know…" She said it quietly, like speaking it too loud would make it come true that instant.

"I'm not scared of anything," he said just as softly, a weak declaration that wanted to hold true…but deep down had no hold at all.

Dexné started walking away, but then sighed, a deep sigh that briefly reminded her of Isa. "…Come with me, Kopa; we'll complete your mission. And I'll show you what I know."

His ears pricked forward, and he brightened somewhat. "Show me what?"

"How to survive."

* * *

If she was asked why she did it, she wouldn't be able to answer. So it was good he didn't think to ask.

Dexné didn't know why she stayed when her mission was technically considered complete. She had enough information on the Pride Lands, and the only thing left to do was examine the Heartless further. But that would count like extra credit, because what she had was substantial.

She could leave at any time.

But something in her would not allow the little cub to be left alone, even when she realized the "extra credit" could be obtained faster without him. He would not return to the safety of his pride, and so she could not leave.

Perhaps it was because she heard it again: _Mom!_ _Momma!_

Perhaps it was because she saw the fear roll off Kopa in waves when his back hit the ground and the shadow of the Heartless's heavy tail loomed over him—she could smell it even, fear so dense and poignant. And it had caused her to spring into action despite her _I don't care's._

Dexné remembered herself, a child young and alone and afraid; a memory so fleeting and foggy, like it was hiding deep in the dark corners of her mind and was scared to fully emerge. Then she remembered her mother, tried again to picture her face. She could not. She saw the long colorful skirts, long colorless hair, but the face was gray shadow. Her mind's eye was blind and ignorant to her own mother's face.

_Momma? Mom…?_

She tried to summon her father's face. The result was the same. Button up shirts, sturdy work boots, salt and pepper colored hair, quiet comfort…but a blank shadow for a face.

_Dad. Daddy?_

She remembered herself as a child, scared and alone.

Dexné didn't question herself anymore, stopped seeking answers that weren't there. She didn't ask why she ran with the cub, why she slowed her pace when he walked by her side, why she bothered to show him some evasive moves, or why she softly coached him—pointing out potential weaknesses before instructing him the best way to attack and defend against different Heartless, or even other animals.

"A smart person—lion—whatever, knows when to fight and when to run," she told him. "Watch your opponent carefully, observe how it moves, where and when it's most likely to be vulnerable, and react accordingly. Don't run in unaware."

"But what if it's an _emergency_? What if I have to save someone?"

"Then you will have to observe and move at the same time—and quickly."

She stopped asking why. She came to understand that what she was doing was… Well, it was, in her mind, simply something that needed to be done.

Together they scouted out different areas where Heartless were most likely to flock. When they found some, they noted how many, and what types. Then, this time in reverse with Kopa watching and Dexné confronting, they prepared to study Heartless attack patterns.

"But I can fight!" he argued.

"What I need you to do is very important, Kopa. A king must be knowledgeable," she persuaded. "I will antagonize it; it will attack. I need you to watch and memorize how it moves and reacts. That way we can better fight it."

Or rather, Roxas could better fight it, as the information would be passed down to him. But then again, XIII might not be sent to the Pride Lands. He would transform, and how well could an animal wield a keyblade? Dexné thought little of it.

"Watch me, Kopa," she said over her shoulder, before engaging the Heartless. "Watch me, and I'll show you how to dance."

And as she ran and skidded and spun and twirled, she wondered…if maybe she was okay with being around someone for a change. If maybe she _liked_ having someone watch her, someone to know she was there, be glad at her presence, appreciate her—no. No, what was she thinking? Ridiculous. A Nobody had no such use for thoughts like that. She threw the distractions away and commenced wearing out the Heartless with militant precision. Her chains appeared in her mouth, and she used them to fell the exhausted Heartless. It didn't get back up.

Dexné started walking back to the cub, her posture low and subservient. She didn't need appreciation. She just needed to fulfil her purpose as the Organization's dog. To do as told, and that was all.

"Whoa! That was amazing! How did you do that?"

But when she saw Kopa staring at her in admiration, she started walking a little taller. Just a little.

* * *

The sun was going down, and as it bled red in the western sky Dexné sought a place to set camp. There wasn't much she could do as a cheetah, but there was some. Her form was that of an animal, but a human mind she still possessed.

Kopa laughed. "Why are you standing like a meerkat?"

Dexné balanced precariously on her hind legs. "I am looking for a suitable spot."

She chose a flat, barren area. She raked away dead grass with her blunt claws, and asked a confused Kopa to place the hard-to-find sticks they'd gathered in a pile.

Kopa watched her as she picked up a small stick in her mouth and began rubbing it on another piece of wood she held between her paws. "Uh, what are you—"

She hissed for silence, the stick clenched between her teeth. Creating a friction fire was a long and tedious process, but, given her current form, it was the only option available. She didn't think they needed it for warmth, as the savannah's temperature stayed warm and had not changed since the sun hit the horizon. No, she was hoping to use the presence of fire to deter the wild animals that hunted and lurked in the night. A cheetah and a lion cub would not stand a chance against an attack from hungry hyenas. Or lions. Dexné read in a nature documentary that the beasts would kill cheetahs, sometimes for no reason. If worse came to worst she could scatter the fire and set the grassland on fire, and escape with Kopa in the resulting chaos.

She worked robotically, rhythmically, and ignored the fatigue that rolled over her as time marched on. Eventually tiny wisps of smoke began to rise. When it did, Dexné quickly batted a cluster of dead grass she'd saved onto the wood.

"Blowth on itth," she slurred through the stick. Kopa stared wide-eyed at the rising smoke tendrils, and she had to slam her paw down to snap him out of it. "Genthly," she hissed when he almost blew away the grass.

Finally, an orange glow, and from that one ember the fire sprang to life.

Kopa stared in horrified fascination as Dexné piled dead grass and sticks onto the growing monster. She wasn't surprised at all by his reaction. Wild animals feared what they couldn't understand. All the cub probably knew was that fire was hot, and could consume and destroy anything in its path.

"How did you do that?!" he gasped out. He gaped at her like she was some sort of sorceress.

After he calmed and they settled around the steady fire, Dexné explained the friction method to him. He didn't seem to fully understand it, but was captivated nonetheless.

Magentas and purples washed down after the sun. The breeze grew slightly cooler, but it was still warm out and Dexné and Kopa gave the fire plenty of space.

Kopa talked on and on about how things were going to be different when tomorrow came. He was going to show the Heartless who was boss. Dexné took his words with a grain of salt, and started planning how to get him to go home willingly. She should have RTC'd long ago…

"You really don't talk much, do you?"

"No." He seemed put off by her answer and lack of speech, his mouth twisting in a displeased scowl.

Dexné scanned the flat expanse around them. She chose the area because she wanted no place for predators to hide, and also so she could run without obstacles slowing her. She saw no threats.

She laid with her back in the cooling grass, the fire flickering playfully a little ways from her, and looked up at the stars glittering in the blackish blue crown of the night. She used to lie outside, she remembered, with someone lying beside her.

When she looked to her right, she saw Kopa.

"See the brightest stars?" Kopa's paw waved in a vague sweep. "My dad says all the great kings of the past are up there."

Dexné stared quietly upwards. Then, "I see suns."

Kopa twisted to look at her. "Huh?"

"Like the sun in the sky. All those stars…they're suns for many different solar systems—suns shining for different worlds like this one."

The cub soaked in her words, staring at the sky with renewed reverence. "Wow…there's so many."

"Billions," she agreed.

As her eyes roamed the stars, she realized something. Any one of them could be her home world. Finding it would be as impossible as finding a single, specific pearl in a vast and deep ocean. She would die of old age before she even explored half of it. A cold, desolate emptiness filled Dexné after the thought.

Then nothing.

"_Open your eyes!_"

Dexné's eyes snapped open as she jolted awake. Her gaze darted around wildly, but there was no sign of anyone—or anything. There was just her, the dwindling fire, and Kopa. The cub was curled at her side.

"Kopa?" she whispered. The cub groaned and rolled over, fast asleep.

She hadn't eaten, nor had anything to drink since coming to the Pride Lands, and she felt very dizzy. Perhaps it had her hearing things. She stayed awake a little while longer, to be safe, but the weariness she felt since Castle Oblivion pulled her under sleep's spell once more. She drifted off thinking how she was going to explain her extended absence to Saïx—a simple recon mission shouldn't take days to accomplish. She could already hear his scolding…

"_Open your eyes!_"

Again she jerked awake.

That voice…it sounded like…

"_Don't you dare close your eyes!_"

It sounded like Lea. And his voice echoed everywhere except in the reality outside of her mind. Pieces of her memories sluggishly moved. But they were stuck, and only Lea's shouts made it through.

"_Don't move! Just—just stay still! - - -, look at me!_"

Dexné gazed up at the dark sky, listening to the echoes of the past, wondering what in the world had happened.

As she slipped back into sleep, other shards slithered by the jammed memories, pouring and swirling before the void, glittering in a light unseen.

She saw flashes of the images they held. One was of her walking home alone; one of her sitting alone; another of her running beside Lea and Isa; another bright flash showed her sitting with them on a cobblestone ledge, a shimmering fountain nearby. There were so many shards at once, and they wouldn't let her sleep, wouldn't let her wake.

She rose only to fall down; she fell only to rise again. Over and over. It was so exhausting, and in her delirium she wished it would stop, that everything would stop. She just wanted to sleep. Sleep deeply, blissfully unaware. Like she used to, before Xemnas found her.

_Open…your…eyes._

* * *

Dexné woke to Kopa's growling stomach. A minute later and she caught him eating bugs.

"Timon says the crunchy ones are the best," he said with a mouthful. "Want one?"

"…No. Thank you." She wasn't hungry enough for that, not yet, and quickly changed the subject to something he might be interested in. Thus she tried to explain relentless pursuit—a persistence hunting tactic used by humans. But she gave that up once Kopa asked what a human was.

They set out, leaving the ashes of the fire behind.

"We'll get 'em today," Kopa enthused, and Dexné knew he was speaking of the Heartless.

She grunted noncommittally. She was so tired; all her limbs felt like lead, her body like stone. She tailed Kopa blearily, and as they came across another group of Heartless she had to force herself into vigilance. Kopa rushed at a single Shadow, and after many bites and swipes managed to defeat it. He had learned to evade and observe, but he was still too forward. He was trying to fight like his futuristic self—a powerful adult lion. Which he would be, one day. Just not today.

"Enough, Kopa. There are too many." She paused. "Why don't you…return home and get reinforcements?"

"Nah, I don't need to."

"Kopa…continue like this and you could die. We could die."

"What? Are you scared?" He teased her like it was some game.

That did it.

"I wasn't the one screaming for mommy the other day. Or have you forgotten the two times I had to risk my life to save yours?" She spoke indifferently, simply. She was stating the truth, something that had to be said, and she ignored the strange squeezing sensation in her chest when Kopa looked at her like she just struck him.

But she wasn't going to leave it at that. He needed to learn.

She turned and leaned down, getting right in the cub's face. Her eyes, the twin black holes that they were, bore into him and had the effect she somehow knew they would: he squirmed where he stood, and he wanted to look away, she could tell, and yet he could not. He was trapped in her pull.

"I don't pretend to know—I don't know what you're doing or what you think you're doing. I'm not sure if you even understand it yourself, but know this: Death does not care how young or old you are; it does not care how weak or strong you may be; how good or bad you can be. It can take you at any time, for any reason…or for no reason at all. You'll do well to remember that."

Her voice was vacant and low. No emotion was presented. She was telling Kopa the truth—a truth that could only be delivered coldly.

Death does not care. And sometimes life does not care to fight for you. Dexné had learned that long before Kopa was even born…though she could not remember how.

Something told her she didn't want to know.

Kopa shivered like he was cold, and once she pulled back and her eyes no longer held his, he ran. She watched him, then let out a long sigh before following.

There was a reason she didn't talk.

He yelled at her and at one point turned around to scratch her leg. She gave him space, but kept him in her sight. Again she wondered why she was doing this, why she bothered.

"Kopa, I was just trying to…" She trailed off. "I do not wish you dead. You're not invincible. You think death is something so far away just because you're young—it's not."

He ignored her.

She grew more tired, felt heavier, with every passing minute. Doggedly, blindly, she trotted after the cub. It occurred to her she still hadn't consumed any water—but she was taught never to drink from stagnant pools. And stagnant, dirty pools were all they came across. Kopa didn't have a problem, but he was native to the world and his immune system was well armed. Dexné, basically an alien, wasn't going to risk sickness.

But she _needed_ water. She hadn't meant to be on this mission for more than a day.

She collapsed.

The world spun, and everything was quiet. She didn't even hear the pattering of Kopa's paws, and she thought perhaps he left her.

Then she heard him running to her. "Dexné! Dexné, what's wrong?!"

She stirred. "Nothing," she mumbled. "Just, let me…"

"Dexné!"

She jerked her head up, dizziness whipping her brain into a soufflé. "I need…I need water."

He nudged her up and walked with her. "There was some water back there—follow me!"

She breathed deeply, trying to steady the physical heart pounding against her ribcage. "But it was…dirty."

"Don't be so picky!"

She went too slow apparently, and Kopa trotted ahead of her. "Look, we both made mistakes," he said over his shoulder, "I did things, you said things, I'm sorry, you're sorry. Okay?"

He looked very pleased with himself, very proud to have taken the high road and resolved their conflict.

They came in sight of the wide and shallow pool, the place surrounded by tall grass and shrubbery, and Dexné grimaced at the brownish mirror it made—discoloring the reflection of both blue sky and white clouds.

As their luck would have it, Heartless appeared nearby. Kopa looked ready to spring into action.

"Be careful, Kopa," she advised weakly, "there's no need to—"

She didn't see the male lion burst out of the underbrush until it was too late.

In the spilt second she had to react, she summoned the chains around her vulnerable neck and belly.

Large claws speared her hindquarters as she spun to keep her head out of reach, and her screech threaded into the lion's angry roar. Pain exploded all over her body as she was mauled. She was powerless against the big lion, and her blunt unretractable claws did nothing, whereas the rouge lion's sharp ones tore through every patch of exposed skin it could get at. Jaws came around her neck, and the only thing that saved her was the chains. A thick shaggy mane was all she saw as the lion tried to asphyxiate her.

The short barbs on the chains were not enough to make him release her, and conversely they were digging into her neck as the lion's powerful jaw clamped down.

She had no choice. She had to use it.

The Black Void.

But then she heard Kopa's screams.

"Let her go, let her go!"

"Run," she tried to rasp, "run!"

The rogue ignored every one of Kopa's strikes, not even bothering to change position or bat him away. Dexné, with great effort, managed to get a claw in the lion's eye, and as he pulled away in pain, Dexné crossed her forelegs in front of her in an attempt to keep him at bay while she screamed, "Get away, Kopa! Run! Run!"

Her voice was hoarse and bloody, and she screeched again as the lion bit into her left foreleg. For a brief second she saw Kopa, still too close, his chest heaving and his eyes wide with panic. She saw him glance quickly between the lion and the Heartless. He dashed towards the Heartless.

He was going to lure the Heartless over, she realized faintly, and get them to attack the rogue. But that would take too much time, time Dexné didn't have. Once he was all the way over by the cluster of Heartless, she opened it.

Opening the Black Void was not an easy process. It was not a door that could be open and shut on a whim. It grew slowly, and it shrunk slowly—to do otherwise would increase the damage taken by the user.

But Kopa was too close for her use the Void like usual—it would drag in him if she wasn't quick. She had no choice but to yank it open. When she did, it felt as if her entire chest had collapsed in, and she couldn't breathe.

She didn't think about the possibility of it killing her. She thought of nothing but devouring the rogue and sparing the cub.

The last thing she remembered was slamming it shut—and it felt like a train had rammed into her empty, empty chest…

Then blackness.

"_Open your eyes!_"

She saw red hair blazing, bright eyes like green glass.

That's right…she remembered. She had fallen…she had fallen from very high up.

"_Don't move! Just—just stay still!_"

She remembered hitting the stone pavement, remembered seeing little red rivers trickle from her, spreading out on the stone like spider webs. And Lea…she remembered him kneeling down, the side of his face pressed to the ground so he could look into hers. His hand hovered by her cheek, thumb touching just below her eye, trembling.

And his eyes, so wide. And his voice, so _afraid_.

Darkness entombed on her vision.

"_\- - -!_" He shouted her name, a name she could no longer hear._ "Don't you dare close your eyes!_"

_Did you want me to die with my eyes open? _she remembered thinking.

In the present, Dexné woke up in a shallow crater. Mahogany eyes, not green, wept over her. "Dexné," Kopa choked out shakily. "H-he's gone. It's okay. Dexné, get up." He nudged her, but she did not move—she couldn't move. The Black Void had locked her, and the wounds instilled by the rogue bled. She stared at the peaceful blue sky, eyes glazed, breathing slow and laboriously.

The cub swallowed a sob, then got up. "Help! Someone help!" he shouted in all directions. "Somebody! Anybody!"

But there was nobody. Even the Heartless had fled.

"D-Dexné," he spoke over her, "just hold on, I-I'm going to go get help. D-don't move. I'll get my dad! I'll be right back! Just hold on," he called one last time as he ran full speed towards Pride Rock.

Dexné fell in and out of consciousness. She didn't know how long she'd been lying there, unable to move, unable to save herself. She was bleeding and alone, and any predator with a good nose could find her.

Then she heard a voice.

"Nulla, Nulla, Nulla," tsked a striped hyena. "Just what have you been up to?"

From the corner of her eye she could see him; the one-eyed hyena with Number II's voice.

Xigbar had always been the one to retrieve her whenever she got lost on her early missions. His manipulation of space gave him a better chance of escaping should Dexné, and by extension the Black Void, malfunction.

He kept his distance. Dexné heard a Dark Corridor, and then Dusks were dragging her in.

And in the split second before she fully lost consciousness, she heard Lea.

_Open your eyes…_

* * *

**...**

**A/N: Kopa is not an OC. He is the unrecognized son of Simba and Nala. When Kiara from _The Lion King II_ was made, Disney disowned Kopa, and I think that's such a shame. He's a neat character. You can read his bio on the Disney Wiki. And for continuity purposes, let's say Simba defeated Scar without Sora's help, like he did in the movie. Sora will only help Simba defeat the ghost of Scar in this story. Otherwise...Kopa wouldn't have been born yet.  
**

**This chapter focused primarily on another world. A Disney world specifically. My question for you is this: Do you want to see future chapters like this or do you prefer I stick closer to the Organization?**

**I have a couple more "Other World" segments planned (not as long as this one) and I can either leave them be or shorten them. I can get characterization and reveals out all the same. It's all up to preference, and I'm asking for yours. If you please.  
**

**Thank you very much for reading.**

_**...I always wondered what forms the Organization members would take in the Pride Lands. And Atlantica, for that matter. Who else thinks Xemnas would be an unstoppable honey badger?**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you to those who provided feedback. I've decided to keep the Other World segments as just that—segments. **

**This chapter gave me a lot of trouble. Nothing looked right to me, and I must've reread and edited it over twenty times. Please let me know what you think. Remember, I don't mind constructive criticism.  
**

**...**

* * *

**::VI::**

Blurred images came and went with Dexné's flickering consciousness. She was being carried by white creatures, she registered that much. They were going down white halls lit by artificial lights—lights that shined too bright from the ceiling. Dexné could not move to look away, so she closed her eyes, and a blood-black curtain descended. When she opened them again the white creatures were taking her down a dimly lit hall. It was the Dusks, she realized. They were taking her to her room.

She closed her eyes once more. Everything faded.

When she woke, elixirs were being injected into both arms, and a Dusk was wiping her wounds with a cloth soaked in hi-potion.

"First Xion goes missing," she heard Xigbar say from the doorway, "and then _our Voidling _doesn't RTC from a simple recon mission."

"Extenuating circumstances," she rasped from her bed. Out of all the Organization, only the Superior had seen her face. Now Number II was added to the short list.

"I'm sure we'll hear all about it in your report." Xigbar grinned strangely—a signature grin of his that Dexné could never tell was malicious or not.

She didn't mention Kopa in her report; her excuses were of the dangerous wild animals—unpredictable and far more intelligent than an average Heartless. The chances of Roxas going there were slim to none. She wouldn't go back to the Pride Lands either. She heard the cub say he was getting his dad, which meant he was going home. And if his father was smart, he wouldn't let his son go gallivanting off again.

The cub and whatever "help" he managed to get together would find nothing in the crater she left behind. Nothing but blood, drag marks, and a hyena's footprints.

She didn't care. If that was what it took to get him home, then she should have played dead when she first collapsed from heat exhaustion.

Dexné's recovery took days despite the elixirs. The wounds were healed instantaneously, but the damage done by the Void required time. The Dusks tended to her. None of the other members checked on her. She found herself wondering if the Superior would come at least. He never did. But that was to be expected. Nobodies did not show concern with each other. They were comrades, colleagues, and to Somebodies it may seem cold not to care. But to do so would be the oddity—they had no hearts to care with.

That was why no one inquired about her, not even Demyx, and it had been his mission to start with. She took his bullet.

But, really, she couldn't blame anyone but herself for her condition.

In the meantime, Xion had been found by Axel and Roxas. Number XIV had struggled to locate and dispose of an invisible lizard Heartless, and apparently refused to RTC until the mission had been completed.

Dexné heard rumors about strange behavior through the whispers of the Dusks. Apparently Axel, Roxas, and Xion were the subjects of said rumors.

Dexné's curiosity pulled at the reins, itching to get further, to know more. How were they being strange? What were they doing? If she could, she would find the answers.

But she could not; she was stuck in her room. It was still difficult for her to move, and she scarcely was able to get out of bed. So she lied there, forced to stare at the ceiling for hours on end. Though one could hardly tell time in the world that wasn't supposed to be, where night was forever. Sometimes she'd come out of her head long enough to look out the window, but it seemed like nothing more than a black box.

Without choice, Dexné stayed content with her mind's inner workings, for there were things there that she was curious about as well. One such thing was the fleeting, vague memory of her sprawled out on flagstone pavement, Lea shouting above her.

She had fallen—fallen a great distance. How, when? She tried to find out, find the missing shards to the incomplete picture puzzle that rested before her mind's eye.

She tried. But it was like pushing against a cement wall. It would not allow her to find, or to see. A black fog, a black wall—dense and impenetrable. She swam in that darkness, against that unceasing current, before conceding and diverging to find different pieces of memory.

The only ones she found shined red.

They were so different, she and Lea, yet the strangest similarities between them appeared…

They both liked to skip class for one.

She had always been seen as the quiet good girl, who did as told and never set a toe out of line. And that was true most days. But there were some days when she just didn't want to comply, some days she struggled against the controlling puppeteer wires. She wasn't outward about it, didn't yell or kick or scream. It was a quiet defiance. A slight tug on the reins, a grind of teeth against the bit. Not loud, not ferocious. But it was there. And when the teachers weren't looking she made her escape.

The bell would ring, signifying the switch of classes, but instead of going to her next class she would weave through the throngs of students, a thread of shadow, and slip out a side door.

The first time she did it wasn't easy. She half expected an alarm to sound, for handcuffs to clamp down. But when nothing happened, even after the second and third time, she eased. It wasn't difficult. People hardly noticed she was there, and when she wasn't there they noticed even less.

She went to the same spot every time. It was behind the school, beyond the older buildings that weren't used much anymore. She stuck close to the shadow-girl the sun plastered against the brick walls, followed those walls until she came to a row of trees, then entered the dense woods within. Pine needles and leaves shivered under her shoes; the green canopy cloaked her in shade. She tip-toed like a careful deer, emerging from between the trees to a place that the woods circled protectively, to a small meadow of lush green grass. Peaceful, quiet, and speckled with little wild flowers. The wind moved through that place gently, almost lovingly.

She went out into the center of the meadow, laid down in the cool grass. Her shoulder bag of books sat between her and the direction the school would be; a final barrier that shielded her in addition to the woods and the distance. She didn't want anything more to do with that place, or its people. It was just her, the whispering wind, the waving grass, the sighing trees. She closed her tired eyes and let herself float in that small world of wonder.

It was nice like that, peaceful. No questions, no expectations. Just nothing.

But that day she discovered she wasn't the only one who liked the quiet meadow.

"Well, well, never thought I'd find you here."

She jerked in surprise. Lea walked over, the sun shining bright in his red hair, making the color come to life like a burst of fire. He stood over her, looking down into her face with a friendly smile. "Didn't mean to startle you," he teased.

"Yes you did," she replied guilelessly, and he laughed. He settled himself in the grass right next to her.

She turned her head slightly to glance at him, the grass blades whispering at the movement. He laid with his arms crossed behind his head, a serene smile playing at his lips.

"Man," he sighed, "it's hard for me to get away, you know?"

"I suppose," she said quietly. "If I was bright like you, it'd be hard for me too."

"What, you think people don't notice?"

"They don't. Not me. And sometimes…that's good." She spoke candidly, openly. The more time she spent with Lea the easier it was. She was usually secretive, closed within herself. But Lea…he had a strange effect on her. Not only did he bring her out, he made her _want _to come out.

He looked over at her, and for a moment she was transfixed on his eyes as they caught the sun. "Hey, I notice. You think I can't see your empty seat in Ms. Cranky's class?"

He was speaking of the teacher that had the entire class berate him. "Cranky" was not her real name, but since present-time Dexné couldn't remember what it really was, Lea's "Ms. Cranky" would suffice.

"Way to leave me all alone with the witch, by the way." He lazily tapped her shoe with his.

"Oh," she stuttered slightly, "I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't realize…"

"Nah," he laughed gently, "you're fine. Gotta get away when you can, right?"

"Yes…"

They lapsed into companionable silence after that, watching the white clouds idly sail overhead. Strange, she wondered, when did the awkwardness leave the equation? The more she thought about it the less she cared. They were in the here, the now, and now they didn't have to bother with forced words and awkward silences. She was glad.

The memory faded into a blur of warmth and comfort.

More shards fell, like shimmering raindrops against the backdrop of black, and brought another memory.

"I see you two like a little chicken to go with your ketchup," Isa was saying wryly as they sat eating lunch. He was looking pointedly at Lea and Dexné's equally smothered chicken tenders.

"Just a little," she replied softly.

Lea's palm slapped the table. "I knew I wasn't the only one who did that! See Isa? See?"

"Congratulations," drawled the bluenette, "you're both unhealthy eaters."

Before Dexné knew it, the main ingredients and nutritional value of ketchup was splurging from her mouth. Both boys stared at her bewilderedly, and the dreaded feeling of embarrassment crept up on her.

"And the tomatoes… Um…" she trailed off in quiet uncertainty, mumbling her next words. "I'll just…eat my chicken, then…"

Strangely enough, Lea's laughter did both to alleviate and aggravate her flustered state. "You're such a dorky robot," he said humorously, almost endearingly, as he bumped shoulders with her.

Isa shook his head, a smile sneaking its way onto his mouth. "You're both hopeless."

Dexné stirred a tender in her ketchup awkwardly, a shaky smile rebelling against the reticence.

Little things were discovered over time whilst eating lunch with Lea and Isa. She witnessed firsthand how picky an eater Lea was. He had to have things just so, or he wouldn't touch it. Almost everything had to have ketchup. Isa, on the other hand, was very balanced with his food choices. Dexné observed he preferred fruits like apples and bananas.

As for Dexné, it didn't matter what was in front of her. If it was edible, it was eaten, and whether she liked it or not was irrelevant. The fear of going hungry hung perpetually, a distant warning siren resonating from the back of her mind. She hated seeing edibles being thrown away, and Lea quickly learned he could push his unwanted food her way. Dexné would either eat it or save it for later.

Present-time, Dexné couldn't remember how she became so paranoid with food. All she knew was that there was a time when she was little and had nothing to eat. The pain caused by that hunger was so intense, so relentless… How could she have forgotten it? Why…why had she been so hungry?

Another memory, a spinning shard of red, cut through the black, severing the faintly glowing string that pulled Dexné toward unpleasant memoirs. The string flickered out of existence, and the red shard took Dexné elsewhere.

The screech of the last bell filled the school, and had students swarming out the doors like frenzied bees. She gathered her books in her bag, set the strap on her shoulder, and made her way outside for the long awaited walk home. She was almost to the exit door when she was stopped.

Lea was calling her name.

"Got any plans?" he asked once he caught up to her.

"Oh… I was just going home to read."

"Textbooks?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"…Yeah, it's _way_ past time we got you a new hobby. Come on," he said, then had her wrist clasped in his hand. He brought her to another exit where Isa waited impatiently.

Before she knew it the three of them were walking down colorful flagstone streets. She failed to contribute in their conversation. She was too distracted, too nervous and unsure. Her dark eyes darted to every corner, down every lane; she wondered where they were going. Judging by the slopes and stairs, they were heading up.

Fountains were everywhere. Water geysers shot up into the sky in shimmering crystalline arches, smaller fountains gurgled amidst stone walls and flowerbeds. Dexné couldn't recall who held providence in that world, but vaguely remembered something about a wise king. Evidently said king enjoyed fountains enough to have them installed around every corner.

They stopped by a small shop, and Lea went inside for something, but Dexné had been too distracted by, again, the surroundings and the timidity that was instilled in her by the unfamiliar roads and signs and people. These were not her usual paths, this was not her usual routine, and once more Lea had shaken her from the stability of her shell.

When Lea came out he was holding a bag of something, but Dexné didn't ask. They were on their way, to where she didn't know. She found out soon enough.

It was a beautiful vista. A fountain bubbled nearby, adding to the ambiance. They stood on a stone-paved plateau overlooking a large span of the town they called home. Beyond that lied rolling mountains and forests, and even the great castle that loomed over all looked glorious in the evening's golden glow, instead of the ominous giant she usually saw it as.

A thick stone half wall separated them from a steep drop on the other side. Unease resurfaced before it could fully leave as they seated themselves. Dexné kept a closer eye on Lea and Isa than herself, lest she lose the chance to grab them if they slipped.

Lea opened the bag and pulled out three blue ice cream bars, each one on a stick. He handed one to Isa and the other to Dexné. She looked to them, saw them bite into the cold treat, and then proceeded to imitate. The frozen blue entered her mouth, touched her tongue…

And tasted like _nothing_.

In the present, Dexné's brow wrinkled with confusion. Strange. It was supposed to taste like _something_. Like something…but what? No matter how hard she racked her brain, the memory of the taste wouldn't come.

They ate in relative silence at first, just enjoying each other's company, watching the brilliant rays of the sun sink down and set their world in a fiery display of gold and orange. Then they spoke, about little things, everyday things. Then they joked and Lea's laughter and Isa's sarcasm filled the space. Dexné would laugh too, and whenever she did her hand would come up to mask her smile. Lea, sitting next to her, would often make an effort to snatch her hand away.

"Just add a li~itle ketchup and I might gnaw it off," Lea jested after grabbing her hand for the third time.

Isa wrinkled his nose. "What is it with you and ketchup? And, no, you wouldn't."

"…Why does cannibalism keep entering our conversations?" Dexné questioned warily.

"You're the one who brought it up first," Isa pointed out.

"Days ago. Lea brought it up this time."

Said redhead added, "- - - would rather eat bugs. I remember."

"Well, bugs have good protein," Dexné informed, "but I wouldn't eat them raw. You don't know where they've been. I bet they don't know where they have been either."

"Isa knows where they've been."

Mentioned teen glared at the redhead. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Dexné hesitated, uncertain. "I think he said you're dirty…?"

Isa idly flung his bare ice cream stick at the redhead, and Lea's laughter echoed even as the memory faded.

He had walked her home after they finished their ice cream. Isa had gone his own way, saying he had things to catch up on. Then Lea said something to Dexné about Isa's parents, how strict and demanding they were, and she suddenly felt a twinge of sympathy for the usually standoffish bluenette.

Her old house came into view, and with it, her mother, who was trimming the overgrown flower bushes up front. When she saw Dexné and Lea coming, she stood up tall and waved.

It was then present-time Dexné's breath hitched in her lungs. Shuddering, gasping, she gripped the sheets of her bed and tried to steady her system. The memory…

It had shown her mother's face.

Round glasses rested on the bridge of a slender nose. Her eyes, the brightest blue like snow in the sky, had crinkles etched around them, formed from years of smiles and laughter. Her colorless hair was pushed back from her forehead, but a few strands strayed to curl around her face, framing all the beautiful, happy lines she had gained over the times.

"Well," she spoke as the two of them neared, "is this the young man who keeps bothering you?" She said it kindly, the lines of her face deepening as she smiled.

For a split second Lea faltered, and Dexné almost missed it because his confidence bounced back like it hadn't happened. "Bothering? Nah, I'm making her day."

"Are you?"

"Yep," he replied surely.

Dexné's mother studied him for a moment, her scrutinizing gaze betraying the kind smile. Lea didn't flinch. He simply smiled back. But his eyes were guarded, awaiting judgment. Dexné's black eyes beseeched welcoming on his behalf.

Her mother's smile widened. "I see. It's nice to meet you, Lea. You may call me Mirron—no, don't bother with formalities, it makes me feel older than I already am." She chuckled heartily. Dexné released a soft sigh of relief.

The smile reached Lea's eyes. "You knew my name already."

"Of course, - - - talks of you fondly."

Dexné was quick to give her mother a look that pleaded, _Stop, please stop._

"I told you I make her day," Lea stated proudly.

Mirron laughed. "He's a charmer."

"When he wants to be," Dexné found herself muttering. She nearly bit her tongue, but then saw that Lea was smiling still.

"Hey!" He playfully nudged her with his elbow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well it's not an insult," she defended. "When you want to be. It's a good thing. Some people can't be charming to save their lives."

Lea snorted. "You mean like Isa?"

His wisecrack incited a smile Dexné tried to fight down, making it crooked. "No. He can when he tries; when he's not being sarcastic and snarky." She held up her hands and shrugged, a meek motion of surrender, and said, "I meant like me."

"Like you?" Mirron raised her thin brows.

"Like me," she solidified simply, clasping her hands over her stomach.

"No way," Lea exclaimed brightly, "you've got plenty of charm, not to mention you're so nice." He was serious; his tone had shifted from teasing cheerfulness to matter-of-fact certainty.

Dexné stared, taken off guard. "I'm…nice?"

"He's right, dear." Mirron chimed in, then added ruefully, "It's why you get stepped on so much."

"Hey, anyone that steps on her steps on me—and I'm not so nice. Got it memorized?"

She marveled at him then. His declaration of defense for her may not have seemed so grand to him or anyone else, but to Dexné it meant so much. So much so that she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, and for a few seconds she couldn't breathe.

Lea grinned and patted her on the back. "I'll see you tomorrow, - - -."

"Yes," she replied distantly, contentedly. But then, she realized, "Aw, no, I have to get up tomorrow."

He laughed as he walked off, calling back, "Yeah! You do! Bright and early, sunshine!"

A distressed noise akin to a goat groaning through a mouthful of grass came from Dexné's throat, and Lea's laughter flowed back to her ears. She smiled then, fully and without fear.

Going for ice cream became routine after that day. The timidity that affected Dexné melted little by little. The unfamiliar streets and places gradually became familiar and expected.

After school, almost every day, they would sit on that same stone wall and eat that same sky blue ice cream. They would talk, they would joke, they would laugh… It was during those times Dexné learned another similarity she had with Lea. And it wasn't something so obvious as a shared rebellious streak, or the same fondness for condiments. No, it was far more subtle than those.

They both valued honesty.

He liked it when she was candid. She could tell by the appreciation that lit up his eyes whenever she was so, could tell by the thankful smile and ease of his shoulders. She could also tell when he didn't like her secretiveness; the slight narrowing of his eyes, the guessing speculation in them, the firmness of his mouth. Yet he could be secretive himself, just as secretive as Dexné, and it was surprising since he seemed so bright and open.

She understood he was human and had things to hide just like other people, but she wanted him honest with her, wanted to be honest with him, and so she made efforts to squelch her mistrust, her fear, and simply…speak. If she was open, he would be too, she reasoned.

But it was easier thought than done. And it didn't help when he wouldn't be open himself—no matter how he played to be. His reserve didn't happen often, but it was annoying when it did. However she realized she was getting a taste of her own medicine, and she wondered how he put up with her.

But he did. If anything, he seemed to enjoy luring her from her shell. And Dexné still wasn't sure if she liked him for it. But then again, wasn't she…happy? She liked being with Lea, with Isa. It was a little overwhelming sometimes, but it was warm. It made her feel light, almost like she could fly. Not like the shadows—safe, but forever cold and heavy.

She liked being in their presence, and from what she could tell, they enjoyed her presence too. For the first time she could remember, there were people besides her parents who actually _wanted _her around.

Present Dexné's eyes snapped open, a sudden realization occurring.

Isa, Lea, and she… They talked and laughed together, often about the dumbest things. And…they ate ice cream together too.

_Friends…eat ice cream together…and talk and laugh…_

"I don't…believe it," she gasped, gripping her sheets in her balled fists. "I…I had friends. Lea, Isa…my friends."

* * *

She wanted to see him, if only a glimpse, and so when she was able to move normally again she went to Twilight Town. There, in the golden distance, she saw three figures sitting on the clock tower's ledge.

She watched them for the longest time, something within her itching, almost…yearning. That used to be her. It used to be her sitting next to him, the one who was once called Lea. Unless her memories were fabricated. She quickly veered away from the considerations that had haunted her since Castle Oblivion and the disappearance of Naminé. No, she thought. It had to be real. Naminé didn't touch her mind—she was having recollections long before she went anywhere near that memory witch.

Yet there Dexné was, standing alone in the shade of the overpass, as if she never had any friends. As if she had never stepped out into the light.

Something bad stirred within her then, shadows shuddered and convoluted, and she had to turn away from the sight of the three friends, sitting on a ledge, eating ice cream together.

The next morn, a Dusk was sent to summon her to Saïx.

His yellow eyes (_green_, a voice hissed at the back of her mind, _they're supposed to be green_) narrowed shrewdly. "I trusted you were smart enough not to nearly get yourself eliminated," he said sharply, speaking of her botched recon mission in the Pride Lands, "but I was wrong."

She made no reply. She just stood there, waiting. Something deep within her squirmed with the hope that his expression would soften, as Isa's once did. But it didn't. He simply handed her another mission brief, the coldness never leaving his face. She read the brief quickly. It said she was to track and observe Number XIV, Xion.

"Take special note on how it uses the keyblade," Saïx detailed, and she was off to do just that.

Dexné hadn't even known Xion could use the keyblade. And had Saïx just called XIV an _it_?

She shadowed both Xion and Roxas to Agrabah, and throughout the entire mission not once did she see XIV use the keyblade.

She hugged the shade, crouched amongst dunes, crawled through sand like a black cobra. She tracked the two newest members everywhere. But when she saw them caught, and questioned, by a blue genie, she waited on baited breath. She crept close enough to hear them, her belly dragging in the hot sand of a dune, and was not pleased at how the two handled the situation. Hadn't Vexen taught Roxas to blend in with local denizens, or at least make himself seem less suspicious? Surely, Number IV hadn't expected Roxas to always stay out of sight. And who had taught Xion?

Thankfully, they were able to escape the genie and his prying questions. But Dexné couldn't leave it at that. If they were ever trapped like that again they needed to know how to smoothly get out of it. Otherwise they could put the Organization's secrecy at risk.

She wavered, wondering if she should just report it and have another member instruct them. Deciding it was too important to wait, Dexné approached them right before they RTC'd, tearing away from shadow's embrace.

They both stiffened when they saw her. Xion leaned over, whispering, "Who is that?" only to hastily straighten up as Dexné stopped before them.

"Number XIII," she acknowledged Roxas, and the boy's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Oh, it's you…Nulla? Or was it Dexné?"

"Either or," she replied.

The dry air filled with the buzz of silence, awkward tension mingling with sandy particles.

"Um…" Roxas appeared confused. "We were just about to RTC…"

"The genie."

"Huh?"

"The genie. The blue creature that was questioning you," she clarified, having about as much social smoothness as a cactus. Nobody or Somebody, that hadn't changed.

"How do you know about that?" Uneasy suspicion edged into Xion's tone.

"I was scouting the area for Heartless—happened to come across you," she concealed, keeping her tone flat. "Tell me, did Vexen ever instruct either of you what to do in the circumstance you are interrogated by a denizen?"

Roxas thought for a moment. "No. He just said to keep a low profile."

"…I see. An oversight on his part, especially considering the event just happened. You drew undo suspicion to yourselves."

"Are we in trouble?" Xion asked, and if Dexné didn't know better she would've thought XIV nervous.

"…I am merely here to assist. It is my duty. It is of upmost importance neither of you blow our cover."

Roxas looked down glumly. "I know that…"

Dexné hesitated. She wasn't sure if she had the right. Though new, they still ranked above her. She pressed on gently. "If…I may offer some advice…"

"Sure." Xion nodded, and the black hood concealing XIV's face bobbed slightly.

"Silence can draw suspicion. Outright lies can be forgotten, and if you give two different answers to the same question… Let's just say they'll know something's wrong. It is better to give them a vague version of the truth."

Roxas furrowed his brow. "How do we do that?"

"If someone asks where you're from or who you are, tell them you're travelers. You come from lots of places—here to see the world. It is not a lie, yet you are not telling them everything. Keep the answers short."

Dexné paused, thinking of things to add. "Try answering their questions with more questions. Say you're in a hurry and someone is waiting for you. If they mention your matching coats, make fun of your fashion choices. Making fun of yourself is a good way to disarm he situation, or so I've read. Either way, be careful, be vague. Most importantly, try to stay out of sight in the first place."

Roxas nodded. "Okay, got it."

"Thanks for the advice," Xion added.

They stared at each other then, Roxas, Xion, and Nulla. None of them knew what to say. The three seemed to share social incompetence. Roxas stared amicably. Xion, on the other hand, could not be gauged, face shrouded by the black hood. Dexné took solace in the fact her face could not be seen either.

Finally Dexné broke the silence that seemed to trap them. "…My apologies for delaying you."

With that, Dexné allowed herself to be consumed by a Dark Corridor. She hoped she gave them good counsel, wondered if another member would have been able to explain it better.

Later on the Superior had called a meeting, summoning everyone to the top of the castle. Dexné stayed back from everyone else, hiding halfway behind the wall near the stairs.

"And at long last, we see before us the great collection of hearts." Xemnas spoke slowly, almost reverently, as he raised his arms to the heart-shaped moon in the black sky. "Shining down upon us is the crystallization of all hearts—Kingdom Hearts."

Dexné listened attentively to the man who founded the Organization. She didn't have a heart, but she didn't need one to respect Xemnas. His very existence seemed to garner it. He was the one who brought together heartless souls, gave them names, a purpose, and a home. He unified those who had no feelings or attachments. That alone was an incredible feat.

But she held no care for the heart-shaped moon, or the talk of gaining and conquering hearts. She was where she was because of the Superior; he was the one who found her. He was the master; she was the dog.

Her memories showed her as a solemn girl, and she supposed she grew into a solemn woman. But Dexné saw herself as neither girl nor woman. She saw herself as an it, a thing, a weapon. Yet she was above ordinary weaponry; she had a mind of her own. Like a military dog, able to plan and react to circumstances. More than a gun, she could expand on her master's will without him constantly having to have a hand in the situation. It freed the master, and made Dexné far above any inanimate device.

His most valuable weapon. The thought made her feel lighter than usual. Almost proud.

Dexné always did as told. To defy the Superior was unthinkable, not because he could destroy her, but because his frown of displeasure, however slight, seemed to cause Dexné's chest to tighten and twist. And if she did as told, and did well, then he just might grace her with a nod of approval. She strived for that minuscule nod.

But now other reasons existed, blossoming into her mind along with her memory. Pleasing the other members was important; they were her pack, her herd, and they held command over her too. If they wanted hearts, then that was enough incentive for Dexné to strive toward that goal with them, though she didn't want one for herself. However, two stood out above the rest.

Her eyes scanned the line of members, and they lingered on red and blue.

She wanted to see Lea's smile again. She wanted to see Isa's green eyes once more.

If gaining hearts would bring that about, then she would do anything they commanded in accordance to that will. Even if it brought harm to her in the end.

* * *

"Number XIV has not used the keyblade. Not once. According to this one's observations, XIV cannot use it… It would seem Number XIII is attempting to retrain XIV."

"I see," Saïx replied icily. "So that's what _he _was playing at," he said, and Dexné knew he spoke of Axel.

"Continue your observations. If it relearns to use the keyblade then there is no foul. But if it doesn't…" His yellow eyes cut to her. "You will get rid of it, Nulla."

"…As you say," she rasped softly, and an unsettling sensation knotted in her gut. "Number VII," she called as he walked away. Saïx glared over his shoulder, and Dexné wavered.

"Nevermind," she rasped in place of her query, then quickly left. It was not like her to question. She doubted he would have told her anyway.

She walked the halls, thinking about her assignment. Why did Saïx keep calling Xion an it? Not only that, there seemed to be something strange about Xion in general. The more she thought, the more it bothered her. She wanted to know, she had to know. Her curiosity pounded the ground with its hooves.

She stopped abruptly. _Vexen's library_, she thought, and swiftly turned heel in its direction. He and Zexion had been in charge of keeping records, and had documentation on all members. Physical status, elemental attributes, and whatnot. Perhaps he had something relating to Xion.

She was careful with the books. She pulled them from the selves cautiously, turned pages like she was holding a baby's hand, and slid them back into their cradles, their slots on the shelves with exact precision so that nothing would be out of place.

When she at last came across member records, she lingered over Saïx and Axel's. Height, weight, age, and blood type were sprawled in front of her. Both were around the same height—at least a head taller than Dexné. And Saïx's weight was predictable, as he was obviously muscled, but Axel's weight surprised her. He was so lithe; she expected the number to be lower. As for age, turned out they were approximately twenty-five years old. Dexné figured she must be around that age too.

Dexné suddenly became uncomfortable, like she was snooping where she shouldn't. She tucked VII and VIII's records away where they belonged.

Curious, she looked for her records, but couldn't find any. She was not grouped with the others, it seemed.

Dexné learned a lot from those books, and learned a lot about Xion, especially once she came across Vexen's personal notes. She had to read them more than once, as she had trouble comprehending. But once she was done, she had a fairly clear understanding. She knew exactly why Saïx referred to Xion as he did.

_Puppet_, she thought. How interesting. Did Axel know?

His new companion was nothing more than a replica.

* * *

Dexné continued her observance, as ordered.

She watched them take on a Neoshadow mission. Normally there would be no need—Neoshadows did not have hearts to collect. It was a test, Dexné realized, to see how far along they'd come. Did they have the strength; did they have the ability to strategize when it came to a smarter opponent? Dexné would get to see firsthand.

And they did—or rather, Roxas did. He was defeating Neoshadows far easier than Dexné ever did. Granted, he faced two at the most. But still…

_All he's doing is throwing that stupid key's weight around_. Dexné narrowed her eyes. No technique, no precision. She saw no value in the keyblade.

Xion distracted the Neoshadows with magic and Roxas charged in with deadly blows. Dexné noted how they worked together, noted how much nicer it was working with someone. Dexné worked alone; it was just her to fend off enemies. She would dodge for her life and still come out wounded and broken. And all they had to do was shoot off their spells and throw their stupid keyblades around. And then, afterwards, they'd get to go up to that clock tower and enjoy the beautiful view and eat their precious ice cream…

There was a twisting sensation again. Right in Dexné's gut. She wondered what it was.

_Envy_, something whispered in the back of her mind, but she did not listen. It was not possible. She could not feel. She was glad she couldn't feel.

Something snapped in her head.

_I don't want to feel anymore—it hurts. It hurts._

Dexné went rigid, the breath freezing in her lungs. What was that? Was that a thought, a memory? It was her voice.

Before she could ponder it, more Neoshadows materialized—a pack of three. Dexné waited for Roxas and Xion to fight, waited to see if perhaps XIV would be able to use the keyblade this time. But instead, a great beast leapt from one of the halls, jumping into the fray and taking out each Heartless with one swipe of his mighty claws. Roxas and Xion had wisely hidden.

"The Heartless do not belong here—not in my castle!" roared the beast, before it prowled off in search of more to prey upon.

Dexné pressed herself close to the wall, back into a nook, and melted into the shadows. She could hear Xaldin's "project" huff and growl as he went by her. When she was sure he was gone, she slipped out and took up a position closer to Numbers XIII and XIV.

"I don't get it," she heard Roxas say, "That beast is the master here, right? But if Heartless showed up in our castle, we'd be the ones to get rid of them, not Xemnas."

Dexné felt her brow pinch in confusion. Was it wrong for the dog to attack the intruder before it got to the master? Or did they not see themselves in that way? Black eyes narrowed to slits. _Then stand back, little masters_, _and I will devour all that seeks to harm us._

She was the dog of the Organization, after all. It was her job.

She watched them leave, knowing where they were going now that their mission was done. The needles started prickling her mind again, but this time it was in her chest too. And it caused her to do something she wouldn't have done otherwise.

She followed them.

* * *

If the worst happened, if he saw her… She imagined Vexen and the way he combusted. She recalled Zexion's pleas for mercy. It caused her to stop and consider turning around. But then she continued forward. She had to. It was her memories, the echoes of voices long gone—they always seemed to push her toward Axel.

She followed them up the clock tower. And she finally understood what the Dusks had meant by "strange behavior." Axel, Roxas, and Xion—they were acting just like humans.

Dexné was staring at their backs as they sat up on the ledge, the sun gleaming on the three of them. She was hidden in the tower, shrouded in the shadows within, looking out the glassless gothic windows. She couldn't afford to make a sound—not even breathe too loudly. She was pressed to the wall, in the corner, next to another row of gothic windows. The tower had the windows in the front and the back, so she could escape out the back if need be.

She watched them, or rather, she watched _him_. The setting sun set fire to the color of his hair, made it shine like the blood of life. Just like back then…

When a picture split through her head—a picture of a man who was older than Lea but younger than Axel—Dexné knew she'd known him longer than that first year of high school. When had it gone wrong? How did they end up where they were now?

Dexné stared, eyes big with fascination as he turned to his companions and smiled—that same warm smile.

Dexné had two different images of a single person in her mind. One was called Axel, the other was Lea. At Castle Oblivion, a sharp wedge had been thrust between the two. Axel's eyes were cold, his smile a lie, his words a manipulation. Lea's eyes were bright with kindness, his smile an honest warmth, his words prodding encouragement.

But, looking at him now, the two pictures were melding back together to form one. Axel was becoming Lea, Lea was becoming Axel. It was getting harder to tell them apart. And the picture of the man who spanned the gap between the Somebody and Nobody made it more so. Because now she could see them smile the same. Hear them laugh the same. Same eyes, same hair, same brow, same nose.

The differences were disappearing before her very eyes. But, no, she had to keep telling herself, they weren't the same. He wasn't the same. He had changed. He was dangerous. Dexné did not know where his loyalties lied. Or Saïx's loyalty for that matter.

"I don't know how much longer we can fool the other members," Xion lamented.

"Relax," Roxas consoled, "we'll be fine."

"Don't be so sure. They're not stupid." Axel was the one to burst the bubble.

And he was right. _We already know_, she projected mentally, though knew he could not hear her thoughts.

"Well, maybe Saïx and Xigbar are tough to fool, but come on—Demyx?"

"Ouch! Roxas, that's not cool."

"But look at him! All he does is play his sitar all the time."

"I don't think you give him enough credit. He works just as hard as—" Axel looked towards the sun. "Okay, no he doesn't. But I'm pretty sure he has a job."

Something fluttered in Dexné's stomach. Then there was the bubbly feeling. _No_, she told herself. _Easy. Keep Quiet. Nobodies don't laugh._

They went on talking about Demyx and his "job." But then, the conversation turned where Dexné least expected it—to herself.

"Nulla works hard though, doesn't she?" Roxas stated more than questioned.

"Yeah," Xion chimed in. "I hardly ever see her, but when I do, it's late. Really late. She RTC's after everyone else."

Axel glanced at the two of them, and Dexné could tell by the stiffness of his shoulders he was uneasy. "…Guys, you need to be careful around Nulla. Don't go near her if you can help it."

"How come?" Roxas asked naively.

Axel sighed. "It's…kinda difficult to explain. She's a Voidling, for starters. She's dangerous."

Xion leaned over. "What's a Voidling?"

"That's difficult to explain too. They're an irregular type of Nobody. You know what a black hole is?"

They shook their heads, and Axel sighed once more. He then commenced explaining black holes, the relentless wells of gravity.

"So basically, once you're past the event horizon—that's it. You're gone."

"But…she wouldn't do that, would she? We're comrades." That was Roxas, sounding gloomy.

"Don't know. From what I've heard they can't be controlled. I have no idea how Xemnas did it. Either way, stay away from Nulla. You never know with her."

As Dexné listened, she didn't know what to think. Numbness completely wiped out the bubbly feeling from earlier. Did Axel…did he want her gone? The very thought made something in Dexné curl in on itself.

What would he think…if he saw her face? Would he know? Would he say her name—her true name? Or…

Dexné gripped her fists together. Could she really risk having what little memories she possessed go up in smoke? If he didn't know her, if her memories were proven false… Or if he saw her and hated her for a reason she could not remember… If he went after her like he did with Vexen… Dexné did not want to face either of those possibilities.

She stayed in shadow, where all was safe. And heavy. And cold.

She wondered, dreamed about what it would be like if she showed herself and he was actually glad to see her. If he smiled at her again... The fluttery feeling came back at that. She wanted it to be so, wanted him to be happy with her presence again, and not wary. But could she blame him? Anyone would be cautious of a black hole.

There were three possible outcomes if she were to reveal herself. Two were bad, one was good. The dream was outweighed by the nightmares.

Dexné tucked herself closer to the wall. She had spaced out and their talk had gone to another subject. Uncannily, they spoke of memories. Roxas and Xion did not have memories of their former lives, and so were asking Axel about his.

Dexné's breath caught in her throat at this. Would he mention her? Would she get to hear her name—would she know it if she did? A familiar tingling zapped through her—the ghost of excitement.

And then died. With one simple word.

"It's just baggage, you know."

Eyes wide, she shrunk back into the cold, hard wall. How could he say that? His past was…baggage?

She didn't want to hear anymore. She eased her way to the stairs, located in the center of the shadowed room. She could not even breathe as she traversed those old steps. Luckily they were stone. Nevertheless she braced against the stone walls to make herself small, and sliced down through the air like a nonexistent whisper. Only when she was far enough down did she Corridor out.

She went straight to her room, locked the metal door, and slowly sunk onto her bed. There she could do nothing but stare into space, that one word playing over and over in her head.

To the Superior she was invaluable—never before was a Voidling found so tame, so complacent. Little was known of them, but what was known was this: Voidlings were blind, deaf, mute, and predictable only in the fact that they could not be predicted. No images or words were supposed to be able to reach them. They would devour, for that was all they knew to do.

Dexné didn't know why she was not as other Voidlings supposedly were. She could see, hear, and speak. Perhaps it was metaphorical? She didn't know. Vexen didn't know either, and he wouldn't risk testing her. Because he was wary. They all were. They had right to be. Anything that got too close when the Black Void was opened was doomed. Anything that crossed the event horizon, the point of no return, was devoured. No object, no being could escape, nor did any light they resonated or sound they cried. The Voidlings could not escape either. The Black Void was imbued in their souls, clung to their very being.

Voidlings were black holes incarnate. Voidlings were dangerous.

So she couldn't blame Axel for what he said. It was probably good of him to warn Roxas and Xion.

What he said about the Voidling was true—it did not distress her. However, what he said about the past, about _her_ as a human…

Dexné paced in her room, barely remembered to finish a report, then went back to pacing. She held her head in her hands, the echoes of the past clashing with the bellowing shouts of the present.

She did not sleep that night.

In the morning she crossed him in the hall.

He saw her and immediately side-stepped, giving her a wide berth. So swift she nearly missed it, he cut her a wary side-glare. It stopped her in her tracks. His footsteps resounded behind her, getting farther and farther away, until they could no longer be heard, and the echoes faded against the stark walls.

To the Superior she was invaluable. To Lea she was the baggage of yesterday.


	7. Chapter 7

**::VII::**

Axel bought them one more day.

After Dexné's last report, Saïx drew a line in the sand. He attempted splitting Xion up from Roxas. XIV's incompetence would no doubt be revealed on a solo mission, and thus the order to eliminate could be submitted.

Dexné watched from the dark hall as Axel swooped in, throwing excuses, saying the Heartless in Beast's Castle was too much for just one to take on. Saïx eventually relented, but said it would be the last time.

_He saved them_, Dexné mulled as she went out on her own mission. _Or rather he saved it—the puppet. Why?_

"_'Cause we're friends,_"came a ghost's reply. Dexné grimaced. It would be so typical of him to say that.

Fatigue weighed her down and gravity beckoned her to fall, but orders tugged her along. She didn't know what exhausted her more, the lack of sleep or the fact that she continued shadowing those two. Watching them made her feel so heavy and weak, like a boulder was rolling on top of her and pressing her down. Every act of friendship they displayed added more mass to the boulder.

Thankfully that day was the last. As luck would have it, Xion finally relearned to use the keyblade on that final mission with Roxas.

And Dexné must have been masochistic, because she followed them up to the clock tower again. She wasn't stalking, she argued to herself. Stalking was following and watching with the intent to harm. Dexné had no intention of harming. She just wanted to know, she wanted to see. She wanted to see and hear Axel act like Lea again. What Dexné was doing was merely…observing. Like a zoologist observed animals. That was all.

And so she watched, she listened, she learned.

During her next mission she was unable to concentrate. She walked in a daze, her mind continuously replaying what Axel had said on the clock tower.

"_As long as we keep each other in our thoughts, we'll never be apart._"

He explained the sentiment so gently, with the care of a real friend. It was a steep contrast to the ruthlessness he bestowed upon his comrades at Castle Oblivion, and Dexné still marveled at the change, a disposition dependent on specific persons. She had simmered in the shadows, trying to figure out what made XIII and XIV so special. How did they attain such comforting words from him? The ravenous wolves of uncertainty tore at her insides. What category would she fall into? Would she incite tender words to catch her like wings in a fall? Or would she receive cold dismissal with a snap of his fingers and be gone in a burst of flame, snuffed out faster than a snowflake?

But then she remembered. He said something similar once, back when he was a Somebody and she was little more than a shadow with a face—a nobody in the general sense of the word. He said it to her before the name _Dexné _ever existed. The blackness in her subconscious slipped out what her response had been, so long ago…

"_And if…I lose my mind? What then?_"

Her voice had been so sad, so…defeated. She couldn't remember why. Perhaps it was because, somehow, her younger self foresaw the future. The premonition came true; she lost her mind. Her memory was scattered, littered with gaping black holes, the pieces that hadn't fallen in just barely beginning to puzzle back together. How and when it became that way she wished to know. She wondered if it was her fault things ended up as they did.

Dexné stopped at the water's edge, dragging herself away from contemplations long enough to gaze out over the sea of Neverland and its surrounding bay. The waves hissed and the gulls cried overhead. No sign of Heartless. It appeared to be nothing more than a tranquil cove. But something didn't feel right; her instinct began pacing restlessly.

_Tick tock. _

Dexné went ridged, her legs slightly bent like springboards under strain. What was that sound? Her eyes slipped off the rocky shore and into the murky water.

_Tick tock. Tick tock._

The muffled sound was growing clearer. And it was getting closer. Far too close for comfort.

With jackrabbit alertness, Dexné squinted into the watery abyss. She saw the shadow coming from the depths.

Dexné's legs sprang her backwards and not a second later did a monstrous green crocodile lunge out of the water, its wide jaws snapping closed on empty air. Black splinters materialized and stabbed together to form her chains. She held the long loop out in front of her, the dark metal clinking menacingly.

The crocodile dragged its belly up on land. The reptile was easily over twenty feet long, and it eyed her with hungry amber slits. Opening its maw, it let out a loud hiss. And, strangely enough, the ticking of a clock resounded with it.

They stared each other down, both motionless portraits. The crocodile's bumpy hide appeared like boiling stone, quiet and unmoving but ready to burst at any given moment. Dexné was poised like a startled deer, ready to run. She wouldn't fight it or even go near it; she'd read crocodiles possessed one of the strongest bite forces known to man. If she got caught in those jaws it would be game over. For either her or the crocodile.

A glint sparked in its eye. It was going to charge her.

Just as it seemed the picture would break into a movie, the creature's attention was stolen by a rowboat heading out of the cove. Another hiss and it was retreating back into the salty waves, the ticking sound receding with it.

Dexné kept her chains out, ever the cautious one. The cold metal slithered around her wrists, up her arms, and dangled. She moved very carefully, lest the _clink-clink _announce her arrival like the _tick-tock _did with the crocodile.

She walked along the rocks like a treed cat, watching the crocodile snake to the rowboat.

An uncertain shout budded and then withered in her throat before it could be expelled. She wished to warn the two men in the little boat, yet she didn't want to call attention to herself. Her raspy voice wasn't likely to carry either.

As it turned out, she didn't have to warn them. The ticking noise did that.

The tall skinny man dressed in fancy red whirled his head to the sound of the clock and, upon seeing the crocodile, gave a terrified shout. "Faster, Smee! Faster!"

The short fat man complied immediately, his pudgy arms rowing furiously. "A-aye, aye, Captain!"

The little boat gushed forward, out into the open ocean where a ship with splendorous sails waited. Dexné could see the crew scurry about the deck. Pirates, it seemed. And their captain, the tall man in red.

They weren't rowing fast enough. Or, "Smee" wasn't rowing fast enough. The captain wasn't rowing at all. They wouldn't make it to the ship before the crocodile caught them.

A moment of indecisiveness hung, and with no orders it remained so. No orders, no motives. Until something in her head snapped. The empty scales in her mind that weighed even crashed, and, like an animal mindlessly obeying instinct, she was propelled to move.

Dexné sprinted down a sandy slope, her legs lifting high as she splashed into the water. Then she kept splashing, making as much disturbance as she could. The crocodile slowed and turned to check out the commotion. The captain and his first mate continued on.

She wasn't sure what she was doing, all she knew was that she absolutely couldn't let that crocodile get the men. Dexné fell to her knees, water lapping at her waist, and thrashed like a wounded animal. To add to it, she dug a barb from her chains into skin, drawing blood. The crocodile swam to her in earnest.

_Tick tock. I hate that sound. Tick tock._

A shard, a memory half buried screamed at Dexné to_stop the clock__._

When the reptile drew close, she ceased her struggling and reached out with both arms as if she were going to embrace it. And then she let it happen. It was gentle at first, a prodding tug, before erupting to its true potential. Water, air, and earth were stripped—all falling into the black ball that bloomed in Dexné's empty chest. Along with them went the crocodile. A stretched line of green bleeding into red was the last anyone ever saw of it.

The _tick-tock _had stopped.

Shakily, Dexné wrapped her arms round herself, slowly shrinking the Black Void. The air moaned as its shrieking decelerated, and it rattled Dexné's coat while the water bucked free like an angry whale, slapping her with its stray waves, and the bits of earth not devoured pelted Dexné as the black hole was finally shut. The Void had left a miniature hurricane in its wake.

Stumbling back onto the bared shore, Dexné cast a gaze over the churning water to see the men make it to their ship. The short one was slumped over, huffing, as his crewmates bustled by him like he wasn't there. The captain, however, stood tall and proud among his fleet, and all skittered fearfully about him.

For a breath of a moment, Dexné locked eyes with the captain.

Luxurious black hair spilled down from a large feathery hat and from his thick angular face sprouted a stringy, twirled moustache like that of a catfish. He raised his hand, which wasn't a hand but a hook, and with its point he tipped his cap to her. A slow, devilish grin of approval and thanks spread his face. Dexné turned away, feeling oddly unsettled.

* * *

Dexné staggered through the rest of her recon mission, tallying the Heartless, taking note of types and areas they appeared most. While doing so she kept thinking about the captain, and why she went to such measures to help him. Or was it even for him?

_Tick, tock, tick, tock. _

Dexné froze, eyes shooting wildly, looking for any sign of the crocodile. There was nothing. Of course there was nothing. The crocodile was gone—for good. So what was she hearing? Dexné's eyes scoured all directions for the source.

_Tick…tock…went the dying clock._ _Ti…ck…toc…k… And its hands move…no more. _

Before Dexné could realize it was all in her head, dizziness assaulted without preamble. She stumbled, not getting far before tripping. Her hands went out to catch her but her arms buckled uselessly. She laid with her cheek pressed to the cool earth, the world around her rocking like a battered ship on the high seas.

_She sat in an empty house. The clockwork was all that spoke to her, but then it spoke no more. She wished it had stopped sooner. As it was, it was too late; it had already given away what was hers. She would never get it back._

A violent shiver charged down her spine. The shards, normally sliding into place, were shattering off course and slicing her, sticking into her brain. She grabbed her head, pain splitting through it, and a raw scream ripped through her. She screamed until all she saw was red.

Red, and then nothing.

The pain stopped, and Dexné was left staring up into a cold blue sky, cloudless, mirthless. Then her vision tunneled, and she let it happen. She did not fight it.

The resonance of a grandfather clock, ringing its deep chime, filled her mind.

That's right. Her father… Her father had worked with clocks. There were clocks all over her house. The sophisticated grandfather clock in the living room, the elegant wall clock in the entryway, the small clock with birds carved into its frame…

Light burst forth, washing away the aches in her head. With it came memories of her father, a strong man who spoke softly.

"Wilam! Oh, Wilam?" called Dexné's mother. "Where is that man? Dear, go get your father, please."

The little legs of a child clambered up the stairs. She was a young girl, no older than ten.

Dexné found him where she usually did—at his work bench. His dark fuzzy brows were scrunched low as he worked with tiny contraptions in old clocks.

"Dad?" Her voice was small, imploring. "Mom wants you."

He glanced up, his deep blue eyes twinkling, replying that he'd be there in a minute. He was never in a hurry. His face was tanned and weathered, and his salt-and-pepper hair was thinning near his temples. But all-in-all he was a nice looking man. He kept his workspace like he kept himself: clean and tidy.

Dexné remembered when she'd watch him in evening's glow, a big man so composed and serene, so in his element while tinkering. He spied her watching him work once, and with a flick of his hand he beckoned her over to him. She pulled up a chair, sat beside him, little legs dangling, and listened as he explained what he was doing. Many of his words flew over her head, many terms and names she didn't know, and when he asked her if she'd like to try her hand at fixing, she hesitated. What if she messed up? What if she broke it irreparably? Her hands, so small in comparison to his, floated uncertainly over the gears and mechanisms of the opened clock.

Large hands engulfed tiny ones, guided them to specialized tools. Like a marionette she was limp and malleable in his gentle grip, and he proceeded to do the work through her. She watched mesmerized as they made cogs spin, clicking and ticking and glowing gold in the light that streamed in from the window. Dexné squeaked in delight when a little mechanical bird popped out, singing a tinkling tune. Song done, it sank back into the little double doors from which it came. Dexné looked up at her father to see him smiling down at her. Her tentativeness melted and she smiled warmly in return.

"_It's okay now. You're okay…_" came a woman's voice from very far away.

Recollections flashed through Dexné's mind. She was an even smaller child, a weary child, when he carried her home. Her chin rested on his shoulder, his slow ambling pace trying to sway her to sleep. But she kept shivering, kept jolting awake. He'd found her sitting in the woods, the sun sinking into purples and blues, the mounting shadows surrounding her like dragons guarding their stolen ward. He approached her slowly, walking right over the sleeping shadow dragons. He picked her up without a word. Her face had been wet.

Her mother was in the garden when they came home, and he went to her, kissed her on the cheek. Mirron took a steadying breath—had she been worried?—and stroked Dexné's hair, tenderly saying, "Hey there, sleepyhead. It's okay now. You're okay…"

The smell of them, like magnolias and wood polish, embraced her. She finally gave in to sleep.

They were always there, her mother and father. He was always working on clocks. She was always in the garden. Always there when Dexné called. It had always been a happy home. …Hadn't it?

In the present, Dexné stared at the sky and wondered if she'd ever get to see that home again…

* * *

She returned to the castle, the only home she had known as a Nobody. Its stark walls and colorless appeal seemed emptier than normal.

Dexné shouldered more missions, most requiring her to track and locate Heartless for the keybearers, and when she was done with that she came back to supervise the Dusks in the various tasks they were expected to do.

"What happened?" she barely whispered, too tired to muster anymore. Smoke was curling out of the kitchen oven in thick tendrils. The Dusks wriggled and zig-zagged in panicked abandon.

Dexné helped prepare a different meal. Not a good cook by any means, and never holding a candle to Mirron's skill, Dexné painstakingly read aloud a cookbook's step-by-step instructions. The Dusks, following her guiding words, completed the meal preparations—if only by the skin of their teeth. Had it not been ready and waiting, repercussion would've awaited them. She would not have faced punishment herself, but Dexné didn't like seeing Dusks destroyed.

She didn't like seeing anything destroyed, now that she thought about it. Not the Dusks. Not the two pirates. Not Kopa. No one. She didn't want anyone to die.

Her head hurt suddenly, and her chest felt strangely tight. She went to bed, hoping it would clear up in the morning.

It didn't.

"_No… It's not. It's not okay…_"

Another restless night bled into another weary day, and more and more missions kept coming.

At the end of the day, she went to Twilight Town. She stood beneath the overpass, not having the energy to shadow her way up to the clock tower. She watched them, the three friends, as a train shook the tracks above her. Axel made a wide gesture with his hands, and Roxas and Xion seemed to be listening with rapt attention. She wondered what they were talking about…

"_As long as we keep each other in our thoughts, we'll never be apart._"

She stared at the clock tower long after they'd gone. The evening never left this world, and Dexné absently pondered how it could be, if perhaps the planet rotated more slowly, or if Twilight Town was in an area that was always subjugated to the sun no matter the orbit.

The hands on the clock kept turning, ever so slowly, and it was getting later and later. But the sun was still there, still warm. She liked it, but also found herself longing for the cool night that came with the moon. Like a child wanting a pet unicorn, she wanted them both to be in the sky.

"_And if…I lose my mind? What then?_"

Dexné turned her face away from the clock tower, the one she's never heard chime. Opposite the tower, out in the distance, she saw rolling hills of green grass.

She ended up walking and walking, beyond the town of twilight, out to those golden green hills. It was out there she lied in grass bathed in sun's light, like she did so many years ago in a little meadow behind the school.

Clouds breezed by above, and Dexné's eyelids grew heavy, her breathing slowed. But she did not sleep, not truly. Instead she entered dreams that she knew were not really dreams…

"_You're not gonna lose your mind. I won't let you. Got it memorized?_"

Red shined. And right beside it, though not as noticeable, so did blue.

* * *

It was the first time anyone had invited her over to their house, and she was jittery all over. Her hands shook as she brushed her hair. She put on her favorite raspberry colored shirt, a long flowing cream skirt, went out the door…and then turned around to swap the skirt for knee-length brown shorts. She didn't want to look like she was trying to impress anyone.

Isa's house was located near the center of town and closer to the castle. Though she made sure to look like a young lady with a destination she kept her eyes lowered, childishly counting the clean cut flagstones passing beneath her feet on the way, their colors like pale fruit loops.

All the houses were built around the same style, with terracotta roofs and colorful stone or brick walls. She went up and down the manicured street, looking for the right address. She finally found Isa's residence tucked on a corner lot. Dexné felt out of place the moment she set foot inside. The furnishings were sleek and orderly; no clutter to be seen, not even a speck of dust. Dexné remembered Lea telling her how uptight Isa's parents were and she worried that maybe she should have dressed to impress after all…

When Isa told her his parents were out dealing with appointments, Dexné released her pent up breath, doing so quietly as not to offend him. They waited for Lea to arrive in the living room. Dexné sat straight as a rod on the white sectional sofa while Isa set up the new video game they were going to play.

"Have you ever played before?"

"…Yes, well—no. Not that kind. I only have older systems at my house." Her father had been kind enough to repair the gaming platforms, which he thoughtfully purchased from random yard sales. He brought the first one home not long after catching Dexné rereading _Wings of Destiny _for the tenth time.

"Hmm, retro."

That was the end of their small talk, and Dexné wished Lea would make haste. It wasn't that she didn't like Isa—she did. But it was awkward. Really, they were only friends because of Lea, who was a balm against her incorrigible social ineptness whereas Isa was like ice and rock and only served to push her deeper within the walls she built around herself. Both of them were just too standoffish, and reacted like the repelling ends of a magnet. They couldn't meet in the middle, not without Lea.

The phone rang. Isa answered.

"Hello?" A pause. "Where are—What?" Isa glanced back at Dexné, who was watching astutely. "Yeah, she's here…"

A few seconds later and Isa hung up. He moved back over to the gaming system, continued setting up as he talked. "That was Lea. He can't make it—something about his mother being menopausal and holding him hostage." He waved a hand as if it didn't matter.

"What?" Dexné gasped out. She winced, mentally reprimanding herself for the outburst. "I mean, oh, okay…"

Lea wasn't coming. There would be no barrier, no bridge between her and Isa. Dexné squirmed in her seat, trying to guess what to do next. Leave or stay? What was the polite way to excuse herself—should she? No that would be rude. But then, what? Her hands grasped each other, turning white in the dilemma.

But then Isa spoke, and the decision was made for her. "I'll take you through part of the single player first, so you can be familiarized with the material. Then we'll do co-op mode."

She relaxed, secretly relived he hadn't kicked her out. "Okay."

The game booted up, and the titleflitted across the flat screen of the TV. The focal point of the game was portals and puzzles, chiefly solving the latter with the former. Dexné was unaccustomed to it; in the few video games she had played problems were usually solved with swords and arrows and explosions. But as Isa's game progressed, she had yet to get any weapons. Her confusion was mounting to more than a molehill.

"I—what am I supposed to… Wait…"

"No, shoot the blue portal there and the orange portal up on that wall."

"What? How does that—?"

"Can you not fathom the concept of portals?"

"Well, I—yes. But it's disorienting."

"Disorienting? How is it disorienting?" he asked incredulously.

"Look—I'm coming out of the ceiling after falling through the floor! Of the same room! The same room, Isa!"

"Falling through the portal," he corrected haughtily.

Her brow pinched and her lips pursed. "Whatever. Where's my shotgun? Any swords? Let me rephrase: any _real_ weapons?" In her frustration she forgot to be exceedingly polite.

"You don't get a shotgun, you get a portal gun."

"But, but that's not—!"

"No buts. And it _is _a real weapon. Anything can become a weapon if harnessed correctly. Now solve the puzzles."

She did as told, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grumbling at his impromptu lecture. Remembering it, though, she saw that he was right; the chains of Nulla proved it.

As the evening wore on something extraordinary happened. Dexné didn't notice it at first, but slowly, surely, the walls between her and Isa crumbled, reduced from stone to cake crumbs. Her frustration cracked her shell, and Isa's snarky quips, usually repelled by Lea, were batted by her instead.

"Oh wow, you actually did it," Isa said in mock admiration after Dexné completed another level. "Good job. I think I have some dog treats around here somewhere."

"I'm only as good as the person who taught me," she replied sweetly, "so be sure to grab some for yourself."

He smirked and mirthfully shoved her, she smiled and shoved back. When she first met him she wouldn't have been able to recognize his dry, if not slightly insulting, humor. She would have taken it as venomous anger. It was with insistent guidance and exposure that she was lured from the walls, and it was in thanks not only to Lea, but to Isa as well, she realized.

"This level's difficult, here." He made to take the controller but Dexné pulled it out of his reach.

"No, no! I can do it. How long did it take you?"

He crossed his arms, raising one skeptical eyebrow. "Seventeen minutes."

"…I can do it." Her small voice spoke her doubt, yet her fingers clamped around the controller stubbornly.

"You think you can beat me? That's laughable."

Dexné chewed her lip, fingers and thumbs twitching over the controls, determined to prove herself to Isa. Not for gloating rights, not to make him feel incompetent, but simply to attain… She wasn't sure. Recognition? Approval? Yes, that last one. A small nod of approval would put her up in the clouds.

After twenty minutes and no progress, she began to squirm. Isa sighed.

"No," she started before he could speak. "I can do it. I just need to…" A couple flicks of her thumb had her character looking from one end of the laser-infested room to the other. She hadn't a clue what to do next. She couldn't activate all the laser switches, which meant she couldn't open the door to complete the level. She slumped, utterly stumped and defeated, and waited in dread for Isa's disappointment.

The corners of Isa's mouth quirked up. "Need a hint?" he asked good-naturedly.

"…If you please," was her tiny reply.

"Momentum," was all he said.

"Oh." Dexné perked, realization occurring. "Oh, I need to use momentum from the fall to rise up out of the other portal and…"

"Exactly."

After single player came co-op mode. Just as the name implied it required two individuals to work together, each with their own portal gun, to solve the tests.

"Which robot am I?" she asked.

"The tall orange one. I'm the blue one."

She nodded, smiling because she was working with him and not against him. Unfortunately for Isa, Dexné wasn't a very savvy partner. One wrongly flipped switch, one stray portal blast, another misdirected laser and she managed to accidently explode his robot over and over again. At first she was horrified, wincing every time she messed things up, until her horror bled into comical giggles. Those giggles weren't due to her errors, but to Isa's reactions. Mouth hanging agape, staring at the screen appalled like he couldn't believe what just happened, like it was a bizarre injustice. His face would be frozen like that for a good five seconds or so. She found it so funny.

"_Orange just taught Blue a very important lesson in trust_," droned a strangely sultry robotic voice when Dexné unwittingly brought a platform down on Isa's robot. His disbelieving shock morphed into a sputtering fit and Dexné couldn't contain the maniacal cackles jumping from her throat.

"I'm not doing it on purpose," she gasped through breathless laughter when he accused her, "I swear I'm not! I'm so sorry!"

"Okay." He sighed. "Let's try this again."

She didn't mess up the second time through.

She'd never seen him lose his composure before. Witnessing those rare bouts of frustration and boyish indignation had been priceless. But that wasn't total loss of composure, not for Isa. It hadn't been real anger, only teasing exasperation.

Dexné remembered the first time she saw Isa lose it completely.

Isa's wrath was not something to be taken lightly. Mercifully, it wasn't directed at her. If it were she wouldn't have survived, emotionally or physically.

It occurred in the hallway at school, a few days after she and Isa parted amicably from their game night. They were looking for Lea. He hadn't met them at the usual exit.

Isa strode with purpose. He didn't like being late, didn't like falling behind schedules, so he was noticeably irate. At least to Dexné he was. But she had always been keen to body language. She subtly eyed the tight set of his jaw, the stiffness of his shoulders, the way he almost stomped while walking.

They found Lea pressed against the lockers. A brown-haired boy in a well-worn green striped hoodie was pinning Lea there, fists twisted into the collar of his shirt. Two other boys flanked Green Stripe's side. But Lea didn't look cowed in the least. A sardonic smile cut across his face like a blade and his eyes held the glinting sparks of a fuse just lit.

Dexné heard the hiss of angry voices shushed in secrecy. Then Green Stripe hit Lea—punched him hard in his jaw, and Lea's head whipped to the side. Dexné's heart and stomach switched places in that moment. Then Lea slowly brought his head back around, reengaging his burning stare, the cutting smile still in place. That riled Green Stripe even more, and he hit Lea again. And again. Again, again, again—

A furious roar exploded from beside Dexné, and she looked to behold Isa, his hair like raised hackles, his eyes flashing dangerously. He charged down the hall like a raging bull and, vaguely, Dexné registered she was charging with him, their feet pounding together on tiled floor, resounding like a stampede.

Isa slammed into Green Stripe, taking them both to the floor. The second Lea was free he tackled the other boy on his right. Dexné slid to a stop, her blood beating drums in her ears. What was she to do? She didn't know what to do! Her zipping eyes honed in on the third boy coming up behind Lea, who was preoccupied with the opponent in front of him—a chunky boy whose sloppy swings he easily dodged.

Dexné didn't know how to fight—but she couldn't just stand there and let Lea get hit in the back of the head. Rational thought scrambled as Dexné leapt onto the boy's back. She locked her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

* * *

**...**

**A/N: The game scene was inspired by the "Two Best Friends Play" series over on Youtube. They're funny, I recommend watching. _Portal 2_ seems like a game Isa would play...  
**

**Please let me know what you think. **

**Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you so much for your review, Anony! It really encouraged me during this busy time. Please accept this imaginary cookie as a token of my gratitude. *gives cookie*  
**

**And thanks everyone else for following/favoriting. It's nice to know people are reading. I hope you find this chapter satisfying. **

**...**

* * *

**::VIII::**

Fists flew. Isa dominated Green Stripe with brute strength, Lea tried his opponent out before delivering a few solid hits of his own, and Dexné held fast as she was slammed against lockers in her captive's efforts to dislodge her. Snarls, grunts, hisses, and clattering metal spooked the silence away. There were no words exchanged, excluding one. And Dexné honed in on that one word like it was a lifeline amidst a raging storm. Her name. Her _true_ name.

She didn't think much about her true name. Occasionally she might try a guess, a shot in the dark, but nothing ever sounded right. However, as they fought their battles—(correction: Lea and Isa were fighting, Dexné merely imitated a rabid koala)—she thought she almost heard it coming from Lea. He kept glancing over his shoulder at her, mouth moving to form a familiar yet unknown name.

_N...E…_

She could almost hear it, the memory almost came through—almost, and then it was cut out by an elderly teacher's voice bouncing down the long hallway. The fighting ceased immediately, stopping like a film staggering on a broken camera roll or a computer game skipping and freezing from a scratched disc.

"Don't think I'll forget this!" Green Stripe bellowed before splitting from Isa. The boy fighting Lea stumbled after him.

Isa was already heading for the door. He shoved it open, shooting back a searing gaze that ordered haste. Lea swiveled on his heel, rushing to Dexné.

"We gotta go! - - -, let go!" Lea pried her arms off the choking boy. Once free he scrambled away, following his buddies in retreat.

Isa, Lea, and Dexné took off as well. They ran out the school, down the streets, and didn't stop until they got to their spot—the stone wall. Dexné could hear nothing but collective gasps as their lungs heaved for air.

"Man," Lea sighed, finally catching his breath, "that was crazy."

Dexné stood shaking, the adrenaline surging frighteningly beneath the surface. She clenched her hands together as if in prayer, willing herself calm. Her eyes staggered first to Lea, then to Isa. She'd never seen anyone fight so feral, and now they stood cool and composed as if it never happened. She briefly wondered if this was a regular occurrence for them, something they hadn't allowed her to see before.

"What was that all about, Lea?" Isa asked.

"Ah, just Zane being Zane—picking on some kid. When I got in the way he took it personally. Cut me off while I was heading to meet with you guys." Lea swept his eyes over Dexné. "You okay?"

"…Sh-shouldn't I be asking you that?" she said stiffly, recalling all the punches he received before Isa intervened.

He laughed. "Nah, I'm tough. Don't worry about me."

"You shouldn't worry about her either," Isa tossed in. "She's perfectly capable of holding her own, as you saw."

"Yeah, but…" Lea scratched at the back of his head, a habit telling of his discomfort. "She's…"

"A girl," Isa deadpanned. "Remind me again how many times your sisters beat you up."

Lea glared at Isa, grumbling, "Shut up, I let them win."

"I'll…go get us some ice cream," Dexné said, not knowing what else to do. Her legs were swift in the swishing mass of her long skirt, and her heart still beat so rapidly she forgot to be anxious about interacting with the store keeper.

She returned with the ice cream and a packet of ice. "For your face," she said to Lea's questioning stare. "Keep the swelling down."

Isa snorted.

"What're you laughing at?" Lea glared half-heartedly.

"You're always getting into trouble."

"Yeah, well…" He put the ice to his jaw, a slow grin breaking from a pained grimace. "Good thing I have you two to get me out of it. Thanks."

They ate their cold snacks in silence, birds chirping, grasshoppers buzzing, the fountain gurgling nearby.

Dexné, still shivering and under pressure, scrambled to find normalcy. She wanted very much to be like them, to be strong and steady and _stop shaking_. Stop shaking.

In an inane attempt to fit in, she blurted, "That was exciting. We should beat people up more often." Immediately regretting, she pinched her lips shut, questioning her sanity.

Isa and Lea exchanged surprised glances. Then their laughter filled the air, and just like that Dexné's nerviness evaporated and her heart fluttered a sigh of relief.

* * *

People had tried to befriend Dexné before.

Out of an entire crowd there'd be one or two who saw her, sitting alone, hunched over and small. They'd approach her. Small talk would be attempted. If they were lucky they might pull a short verbal response from her. But more often than not she'd just stare; maybe nod, maybe shrug. Vacant black eyes staring from a face too pale unnerved most. They'd grow uncomfortable, swiftly disengage. None had been persistent. Not like Lea. And, thinking about it, she couldn't figure out why Lea went to such lengths. No one else went through the trouble he did; getting to her wasn't easy—she never made it easy. Climb walls that were like mountains—that's what had to be done to reach Dexné with the hand of friendship.

She didn't think she was worth the effort. And it seemed the general population agreed.

Courteous kindness did not breech the icy walls she leaned against every day. She never noticed how cold those walls really were, not until Lea came around, bringing a fire with him most people could only dream of carrying. And he showed her how nice it felt to be warm, if she'd only step out into the sun. Mesmerized by his fire, she followed. By doing so she was able to meet not only the sun, but the moon.

People had tried to befriend Dexné before. Lea and Isa were just the only ones to succeed.

Or maybe they weren't. Maybe there was another who tried almost as hard.

Dexné barely remembered that girl. But she was there. Or had been.

* * *

Social stagnation never seemed to scare her off. Rebuffed her, made her move along, yes. But she kept coming around. She'd say hi, ask Dexné how she was. She might even comment on the weather. Then she'd leave.

The problem was she continued doing it.

She didn't go out of her way, didn't seek Dexné out like a heat seeking missile (she wasn't Lea). But if she happened to be nearby, she'd say something. Dexné never knew what to think of her. On bad days she was annoying; on good ones she was just there. She didn't bother with responses anymore and the girl stopped waiting for them. She never hounded Dexné. Maybe they would've been friends if she had. But she only gave polite greetings and polite goodbyes. Perhaps if Dexné had reached out… No, she wasn't going to climb the walls she made for the very purpose of keeping others away.

Dexné would never see her coming. She'd hear her bell-light voice before she saw her. If she deigned to look at her she'd see nothing extraordinary. Short brown hair, dark and shiny, surrounding a heart-shaped face, and dark eyes, almost as dark as Dexné's. But not black. When the light hit, she could see they were blue, a navy that glittered like the ocean under a full moon.

It made Dexné want to scowl. Black didn't glitter. What did the stupid girl want, anyway? She had nothing to gain by speaking with a shadow. How pointless.

_Stay away_, thought Dexné. _You're going to leave anyway. Don't even bother._

Dexné studied her brown shoes as chatter hummed around her. It was the start of school, and she was waiting in her usual spot for the bell or Lea—whichever came first.

"I'm sorry about Zane," said the navy-eyed girl out of nowhere. Dexné jerked in surprise, her back rippling on the brick wall behind her. Her shock gaze glued to a petite, roundish figure.

Navy gave her an apologetic smile, but made no other acknowledgement of her fright. "I've been working on him," she continued, "trying to get him to be nice. He's almost cordial with me now…well, mostly."

Dexné stared.

"I hope you weren't hurt. It was you with Isa and Lea, right? When the fight broke out?"

Dexné blinked.

"I was there. I saw. Well I saw the tail end of it actually. Oh, don't worry, I won't tell." Navy's face scrunched up like she tasted something sour. "I heard Zane started it. He can be such a jerk."

Dexné's eyes darted from one end of the hall to the other, then resumed staring. The girl shuffled her feet.

"Well, it was nice seeing you again, - - -."

And then she was on her way, gone as quickly as she'd come. Dexné stared after her, stupefied. Then her eyes narrowed and she turned her attention back to her shoes in a silent huff. Come and go. No one stays.

A realization dawned. Navy knew her name, but Dexné did not know Navy's. She suddenly felt like a mouse being observed in her cage. The observer knew things about her, but she knew nothing of the one watching her. A jittery feeling swept all over Dexné, creeping along and making her uneasy.

She needed to learn that name, if only to level the playing field.

* * *

Now that she was actually looking, Navy seemed to be everywhere, buzzing around like some busy little bee. Her stride always carried purpose, and she always held important looking folders. She wasn't one to dawdle.

Dexné lingered, Dexné watched, Dexné moved slowly and carefully, and was quick only when she needed to be. Never did she rush to get to class, she went out of duty, whereas Navy seemed pleased to go and happy to be punctual. They were nothing alike.

She followed too closely and was careless. Navy caught sight of her and, like a rabbit, Dexné froze foolishly as if she would disappear once motionless. But Navy suspected no foul play. She smiled and waved merrily, powder blue bracelets jingling on her wrist.

The jingle echoed in Dexné's ears, and her eye got stuck on the metal bands of blue. She'd seen those before. Navy always wore them, one around each wrist. The bracelets were shaped odd, like strings of little ornate clouds orbiting the carpals. They gave Dexné a sense of déjà vu, like she'd seen them elsewhere. She just couldn't place where…

The next time Dexné found Navy, she was talking to Isa at his locker.

In all the time Dexné spent with Isa, he had shown he was fluent in both savagery and sophistication. He dwelled high on the social ladders, not limited to any one class, and was respected by jock and nerd alike. He was quiet, but not fearful like Dexné. He spoke when necessary and did not waste time on matters he deemed unimportant.

Dexné wondered how Navy fit into the 'important' section.

Dexné peered around the corner, books clutched tightly to her chest, waiting for the strange girl to leave before approaching Isa. At last she left and Dexné pulled away from the concealing wall. She walked with forced nonchalance to her blue haired friend.

"Who was that?" she inquired with feigned indifference.

Isa sighed exasperatedly. "That was the class president. Don't you keep up with anything?"

"No." She smiled softly as he put a hand to his head. "She stops and talks to me a lot."

"She's a pleasant person," Isa agreed, sliding a large textbook into his orderly locker.

"…What's her name?"

Isa raised his brows and gave her a hooded look that presented no surprise. "She stops to talk to you and you don't even know her name?"

Dexné stared expectantly.

Isa huffed. "You want to know her name? Ask her."

Dexné's head snapped to attention, her eyes going wide. "What?"

"Ask her," Isa repeated, shutting the locker. The metal clang resounded with an authoritative finality, and it made Dexné flinch.

Ask her? How could she ask her? The girl had been around since middle school—maybe even elementary—and Dexné didn't know her name. But she knew hers. To ask her now would be—it would be… Humiliating. Shameful. Unthinkable.

Black orbs beseeched, but she knew it was futile. Her doleful gaze bounced harmlessly off Isa's straight back. He would give her no answer.

But he wasn't the only one who would know. Dexné went through her usual routine, her usual classes, all the while keeping an eye out for any shock of red. Surely he would have the name memorized.

And so, when she caught him in the hallway, she was astounded to hear him say, "The class president's name? It's…" He scratched his temple, smirking almost sheepishly. "Huh. I forget."

"You…didn't get it memorized?"

"Nope." He slapped his arms down after a lazy shrug. "Sorry."

She cast her gaze downward, eyes sweeping the floor as if it would uncover the name there.

Lea leaned forward, catching her eyes with his. Gently, he said, "You could try the yearbook, you know."

"Oh!" she startled, shaking her head to clear its fog. "Yes. Of course. I will."

White teeth showed in the smile spreading on his face and he ruffled her hair endearingly. "You spazzy robot."

That evening she scanned the dusty bookshelves of her home, trailing fingers over old bindings with faded gold letters, eventually finding her yearbook. When she opened it the pages still smelled new. Her mother insisted she get one, as a keepsake, but she never bothered looking through it. Her black eyes darted from face to face, through rows and rows of pictures of classmates she never troubled herself to know. So many names she wouldn't care enough to remember.

Finally black eyes reflected the face they were looking for. Navy eyes shined tenderly and her mouth smiled demurely. The face finally had a name, and it wasn't Navy.

Her name was Sera.

* * *

Dexné jolted awake in the golden hills feeling chilled despite the warmth of her Organization coat. She stood, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to overcome her, and squinted in the direction of the clock tower.

She'd been 'asleep' only three hours.

She Corridor'd to the castle, shadows dancing at her feet as she stalked to her room. It wouldn't be long before she would have to report for duty. In lieu of sleep she drank two hi-potions, bathed, and redressed. And then she waited. While she waited she contemplated, as she could do little else.

Memories mixed and mingled in her head. She couldn't keep it all straight. So she couldn't really believe herself when she thought she'd seen Sera's bracelets before, or rather _now_, in the present. The memory-dream must have faulted, confused now for then or then for now.

Mind whirring like a restless, overheated computer, Dexné closed her eyes and put her head in her hands, wishing for nothing more than dawn to come and the missions to come with it. At least then she would be focused on her duties, and not tripping over something long since passed.

Morning came. Dusks swirled around the Devouring Shadow, their wispy voices filling her ears and drowning out the things that kept her pacing throughout the night. She tore through her missions: finding, tracking, devouring, reporting. Neoshadows and Leechgraves put cuts on her she couldn't really feel, and quick injections of elixir took care of physical manifestations and their subsequent malfunctions.

She didn't slow, not when cornered by the Neoshadows or when temporarily struck still in imagined fright at the Leechgrave. Shadows dived into black holes that cared for nothing but consumption. Chains and coffins and thorned obtrusions scattered dirt that tried to bury her in memories that roared through muzzles tied too tight.

Through all the chaos there was red, a light shining so desperately in the distance, trying to get her attention.

The organic mechanisms that made up her body at last could take no more, and she collapsed in the dark hall. She leaned heavily against the wall, side pressed against the cold surface, fingertips grasping the white in a vain attempt to keep her from sliding further down.

Then she saw red, entering the dark hall from a too bright room, the light behind him giving him an almost ethereal glow. _Not now_, she prayed, _don't see me like this. Don't see me. Please, don't see me._

His boots reverberated off empty walls, getting louder the closer they got. And when they reached her she held her breath, going absolutely still in the misconceived notion she'd disappear in doing so.

He passed her, kept going. She let out her breath.

And then he stopped. Turned. Looked at her. His luminous green eyes squinted in the dark as he zoned in on her scrunched up form and everything in Dexné stilled, like the very blood in her veins froze to a crashing halt.

"Nulla," he ventured. "What are you doing?"

"…Resting, my liege."

He blinked, seeming to stumble over her words. "Liege?" he muttered, ruffling the back of his hair. His hand fell back to his side as he said, "Not really the place to rest, Nulla."

"As you say." She struggled to keep her tone flat and even. As it was, it wavered like a dried leaf trembling in the face of a firestorm's gust.

"Right then…" He trailed off, waving her away as he himself went along.

Cold fingers plunged into Dexné's chest, or so it felt like. Not understanding it, or why it was happening, she put a fist over it. And then she banged against it, knocking on it like a door, only to be greeted with a hollow _thump, thump, thump_.

* * *

She must've been lucky, or maybe there was a silent force pulling her towards those two, connecting them though they knew not the face beneath the hood, and she knew not what had become of them to make them like this.

Or maybe it wasn't luck, considering what she was overhearing: Traitorous whispers tight-walking a line bordering enigmatic and deadly. Then again, what if it was another member who was listening in? Anyone else would have reported to the Superior, bringing with them the iron fist of punishment. Of execution.

But with the way it was, Dexné was the one to hear. And she was the one to decide to horde the information to herself, trying to protect both her master and the only two connections to her humanity.

Find out what they're doing, she planned. Then head them off. Stand between all and death, and the mere threat of the Black Void will make even the reaper back down. Or so she hoped.

She would not let them pass to the Superior, she would not let the Superior know of their plan, and in the process all would be spared.

But life had roads that twisted and bended, making even the most neatly written plans susceptible to tears and smudges.

"The place…Naminé and Xion…born," came the fragmented speech through the vent. "It's practically calling out for you."

"Whatever—" As Axel said this Dexné could clearly picture the triumphant smirk on his mouth. "—As far as…castle goes you're…one who really wants to go there. By finding the room… You would find out…about Xemnas's true agenda. Am I right?"

Dexné willed her physical heart to shut up already so she could hear. It was pounding far too loud in her ears.

"The Chamber—" Dexné breathe deep, closing her eyes and latching onto Saïx's voice. "…Xemnas has an agenda he hasn't told anybody… Bound to find clues… And once we obtain those clues we'll have the upper hand for our own objectives."

"I knew the time would come when Vexen and Zexion got in your way. That's why I took the initiative and cleared the way to the top for you…"

Dexné's stomach turned and her forehead touched the floor, the chill of it doing little to soothe a mind that fruitlessly shot neurons from one end to the other, clamoring to find a way to keep peace in the only place that could be called home anymore. The Organization wasn't supposed to be burning itself from the inside out.

"I'll do all the dirty work. You go all the way to the top."

_Stop,_ she pleaded,_ Stop._

"You will be going on a solo mission to Castle Oblivion. Expect the orders soon."

Sensing Saïx's exit Dexné shot up. Black spots punched holes in her vision and she unwillingly sank back to her knees, everything in her screaming to get up and get out of there before—

"One more thing…" Saïx continued, and Dexné decompressed with a stifled sigh. "Something will have to be done about Nulla."

Air left her completely, and at long last her heart seemed to stop its incessant beating, freezing over and leaving everything cold and dead. Nothing more could be heard from her systems and nothing else blocked out the voices in the other room.

She listened to every word, let what was spoken carve an epitaph on the inside of her skull. When all was said and heard, she rose up like a soundless ghost. Methodical impulsions lead her down the halls, the shadow splayed on the wall at her side marched in tandem. The converses, the information obtained, replayed in her head like the beat of a drum.

"Nulla isn't going to just go away. Steps must be taken now."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Observe her. If she can be used to our advantage then we needn't worry. Otherwise…"

"What do you expect me to do? You can't just walk up to a Voidling and—"

"You've worked with her before. I'm confidant you'll find a way. Besides, Nulla isn't so complicated."

Dexné got to her room, drifted over to her bed, and planted herself face first. Her ever spinning mind had slowed, unsure of what to do or where to go. But it didn't stop, no, it would never stop. Those cogs wouldn't stop turning until she was dead—an occurrence that might be coming sooner rather than later.

Saïx wasn't stupid. Neither was Axel. Getting to the top was one thing, but if they expected the Luna Diviner to stay on top something had to be done to secure the position.

"You know, she called me her liege earlier. That's new."

"A promising start. She'll be an invaluable weapon if she can be harnessed. And if she cannot, she'll be a threat that can't be ignored."

Her interference had been foreseen. And now, they were planning to intercept.

* * *

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**A/N: Bad? Good? Reviews are much loved!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you very much mysteryreader6626, VidiaPhoenix, Scarlett Virgo, Guest, Wounded Wing, and Anony for your reviews! They really kept me going. Here's a virtual flower.  
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-`҉҉´-  
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**Can you see it? You might have to use your imagination. ^_^'  
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**::IX::**

_I'll do all the dirty work. You go all the way to the top._

How was Dexné to take those words, now that the context involved her? She was the Superior's tool, the Superior's secret weapon, and never had she any qualms about being used as such. Dexné accepted her role with gratitude, pleased to be of value. Yet the mere thought of Lea using her made her a mule—the desire to kick and scream in protest wouldn't ease.

Axel was going to manipulate her, like he pulled the strings on that replica at Castle Oblivion. And if Dexné failed to respond positively his next step would be finding a way to get rid of her—permanently. And it was wrong. It was all wrong. She wasn't his tool or his menace, she was…she was his friend.

She mulled over the idea of striding out without her hood up more than once. And more than once a sense of dread struck her, like a brick to the stomach. She couldn't fathom how, but she _knew_ in her gut something horrible had torn them apart, that she personally had done something to warrant the claws of dread that sunk into her flesh every time she thought of revealing herself. And without a concrete memory to evaluate, she'd never understand why.

Dexné needed to find out what happened, or else she would be stuck waiting like a cow in line for the slaughter house. Unless she complied, but then how was she to serve two masters? Turning on Xemnas was unthinkable.

She needed to understand. She needed to find that memory.

On the outside nothing was amiss. If any of the members looked at her they would see the same old Nulla. The passionless servant who served remotely. The obedient dog, tame, yet dangerous still. None would guess the internal state of confusion and turmoil. Dexné never let on, and did her missions as if the majority of her attention wasn't focused on rooting up solutions buried in recollections lost. She called out for it, desperation showing only in the speed in which she moved through her assignments. In the end she despaired.

No matter how far Dexné dug, the memory would not come.

* * *

Very clearly in her mind's eye she saw the spinning blades, the tips spitting with fire, the metal gleaming vengefully in the hot light. Arcing through the air, slicing and tearing and searing. Dangerous weapons that required a master's hand to wield—and a master's hand they had. Axel spun, tossed, and caught his chakrams as if it were child's play, as if one slip up wouldn't impale him. Fascination captured Dexné's gaze, intimidation kept her away. And now more than ever did those circular spiked blades stir trepidation within her. Now there was a chance those blades would turn against her. She would have to dodge not one, but two, and look out for Axel, and the fire…

Dexné feared the confrontation would force her to fall back on the Void. Overwhelmed in the face of danger, would she be allowed a choice? When death stalked on the fringes and fire ate at her the instincts imbued would rip the black hole open. And in would go the fire. And in would go the chakrams. And in would go…Lea.

No matter what he called himself, Dexné saw the same soul, the same person who poured sunlight into the shadows of her life.

What went into black holes never came out, and Dexné could never, never let him fall in…or she would never see him again. A stripe of red, hanging in the air, fading, and then…nothing.

A violent tremor raked Dexné's entire body, and she was glad to be where no one could see. Axel and Saïx's test of her would come, and when it did she must walk the line between them and Xemnas, must appear faithful to all sides, and mustn't do anything to elicit her extermination. Or else she would be facing those chakrams, that fire, Lea himself...and if he pushed her to the edge her survival instincts may very well negate her conscious will.

She pictured those blades too clearly, spiraling towards her. Dexné gripped her head, a shadow hunched over in the dark, silently pleading the image go away.

Red shined through the black clouds in her head, the light of it dissolving the chakrams into something else, something far less threatening.

Lea used to tote a different weapon. When Dexné first saw them, however, she didn't think much of them…

They were standing down in the Central Square, flowers and fountains surrounding them on all sides. Lea was showing off his new 'weapons,' though Dexné could hardly see how frisbees could be classified as such—even if they did have some spikes on their perimeters, and menacing flames painted on the front.

"Awesome, right?" Lea beamed, twirling one of the discs on his finger.

Isa put a hand on his hip, scoffing. "Are you going to fight with them or do a circus act?"

Lea stopped the twirling. "You're just jealous my dexterity is better than yours."

"…I'm surprised you know what that word means." Isa spoke as if he were insulting, yet there was a mischievous, if not playful, gleam in his eyes.

"I'm sure - - - thinks they're great."

Then Lea's attention was on Dexné and she, wide-eyed, froze in his expecting stare.

"…Um, yes. Yes, great."

He grinned. "See?"

"Sure." Isa fixed her with a hard gaze. "Now tell us what you really think."

Dexné felt her heart palpitate. She wished to say nothing and let them think what they like.

"Well?" prompted Isa. He wasn't having it.

Stomach dropping, she carefully thought over her answer, all the while trying to be quick.

"Well, I—I do not see how they could be…weapons." She shrunk in on herself, feeling traitorous.

Lea's exuberance did not take it as badly as Dexné. To her relief he still smiled. "You kidding? These things are deadly!"

Isa nearly rolled his eyes.

Dexné's confusion, like a deer poking its head out of the brush, tentatively pushed past her reserve and prompted investigation. "Really? I would think… I mean, what damage could you inflict? The most those could do is break someone's nose…" She trailed off, voice ending small.

"Ah, I'll show you both. I just need someone's butt to kick." He started the twirling again.

"Good luck," Isa said dryly.

"Hey, c'mon, have at least a little faith in—"

When the black disc slipped from his finger and collided with Dexné's nose with a firm _clunk_, she learned it was much harder than it looked. She stood dazed, nose throbbing, thoughts racing. Had he done that on purpose? Had she deserved it? Was he angry? He taught her a lesson all right—if that's what he meant to do. She wouldn't say a thing against those frisbees again. But once her mind ceased its rapid-firing she clearly saw the action was accidental. Isa stood stock-still, eyes wide. Lea was the same, except his mouth hung open, and his arm was outstretched like he had tried to catch the wayward disc.

Both were unmoving, seemingly holding their breath.

Then, after gingerly wiggling her nose to gauge its intactness, Dexné picked up the black disc, which had clonked to the ground after greeting her face, and held it out from her person with one hand. "You did not," she said robotically, "even manage to break my nose. I am disappointed."

Surprise flitted across them, breaking them from their statue-like state. Then Lea laughed, Isa smiled, and everything was okay again.

"Ah, man! That almost gave me a heart attack. I thought she was gonna cry!"

"You did not hit hard enough to make me cry."

Isa failed to bite back his laugh. "You two are something else."

Dexné smiled—a true smile. Her head tilted lightly to the side, lips spread upward, showing the fullness of her cheeks and gently curving her eyes. She remembered herself only when she caught Lea staring at her strangely, strange in a way that she couldn't quite discern. There was an odd glimmer to his eye, a faraway sheen.

He stared a bit too long and it unnerved her. She averted her eyes, hand belatedly rushing up to hide her glee. His grin became…sad, almost.

"Would you quit covering it?"

The memory was cut out by the sight and sound of the chakrams, the flames glaring, the roar loud in her ears, and Dexné opened her eyes to remind herself they weren't really there. She flinched and shuddered regardless.

A frisbee to the face was inconsequential. It throbbed and was painful, but really it was nothing. The pain was quick to fade. A chakram, on the other hand, wouldn't hurt. No, it wouldn't hurt at all. Its blades would pierce through her face, into her brain, and kill her before pain registered.

That is if he didn't burn her first.

Dexné pushed through her duties, her pace frantic and edgy, those thoughts whispering like ghosts over her shoulder.

* * *

A vacation day did not mean rest for Nulla. Roxas and Xion would be back to work on the morrow and Dexné was expected to have Heartless locations pinpointed. She carried on without any semblance of complaint, though her body was full of them. Only the assurance that Saïx and Axel wouldn't yet implement their plan gave her respite. Axel was asleep, and she overheard him say he'd be sleeping all day.

But the wait was driving her mad. Like a carriage horse anticipating the whip she pawed restlessly, wanting to run now rather than wait for the sting but could not due to the harness keeping her buckled in place. And more oft than not she stopped, flabbergasted as to how she was…almost…_feeling_. She was a Nobody—problems of that nature weren't supposed to afflict her.

She was simply remembering, she realized. She was simply recalling those emotions and instigating them into her current situation. Recognizing that, she was able to push those recollections away, and the turmoil within subsided to a low growl.

Dexné traveled to realms that yielded the fruits she—no, her superiors—desired. Dexné tip-toed through Halloween Town, blurred a path into Wonderland, weaved through the pillars of the Coliseum, and cut lines in the sands of Agrabah until she had enough to go back with. Numbers XIII and XIV would have their work cut out for them tomorrow.

She reported her findings to Saïx.

The Luna Diviner took her quick-hand notes, impassive gaze regarding her silently. Dusks buzzed about him with various papers, folders, and books—all needing to be sorted. One Dusk in particular was swishing around him frenetically, grabbing papers from its identical cohorts and shuffling them into the neat pile tucked under its arm, head turning to Saïx as if looking for approval. Dexné pushed down the urge to shoo it away. But then she glimpsed inconspicuous markings that differentiated it from the rest, and it almost seemed—

"Excellent work, Dexné. You may take the rest of today off."

The Dusk might as well have dissipated into thin air, for Dexné's line of thought was besieged and held captive by the man in front of her.

Protocol kicked in and she bowed before taking leave, feeling strangely light—like she was walking on clouds. All the doubts and delusions and preconceived horrors that had warred in her head all but vanished, blanketed by one tiny simple act.

Until that moment, Saïx had never called her anything but Nulla.

It was just a tactic. She knew this as soon as she was beyond the scope of his spell. But the blinders it placed remained.

* * *

She remembered Lea's touches.

It was never inappropriate and to any other person it may not have seemed so daunting, but touch to Dexné was rare and unexplored so that the slightest bump or softest brush put her on edge. Even the soft whisper of air as a person moved past did not go without tensing her. Her mother would hug her occasionally, her father too if asked. The outside world, however, spurned her to be prickly aware.

And for Dexné of the Organization, touch was never good—it was worse; her evasive defense method ruled any form of contact as pain. For Dexné of the past the consequence was not so cruel, but a mere temporary state causing her to wince and quietly withdraw.

But Lea was not some stranger she could just depart from. He was her friend and if his warm eyes and inviting smile indicated her presence was wanted, she stayed. The strange fluttering in her chest kept her both bound and free—which made no sense to Dexné, but then again she was never really human enough to understand such things even as a person, let alone a Nobody.

A grasp of the shoulder, a nudge, a hand atop her head: noninvasive but persistent and jarring all the same. Lea never seemed to be conscious of the effect it had on Dexné. A clap on the back sent electric shivers rushing along her nerves, blazing along skin, delving into muscle before conjoining in the rapids of her spine and making the final journey to her brain—all in the span of milliseconds. And Lea would laugh about something Isa said, none the wiser to her predicament. Sometimes his hand lingered and she'd be acutely aware of the warmth of his palm, the weight of every finger, until he lifted it, freeing her from the daze.

Isa was never so personal. He said what needed to be said drawing from precise verbal repertoire and expressions that could say so much more. Only Lea intertwined the physical aspect with voice and expression.

In the present, Dexné noticed that hadn't changed about him. He'd rest a hand on Xion's hooded head, pat Roxas on the back. She watched them with something empty and cold stirring inside, something wistful and tugging.

A grasp of the shoulder, a nudge, a hand atop her head… He used to connect with her that way.

She hadn't expected to relive those touches. She hadn't expected to lose her position as the watcher either. Dexné always regarded herself outside the bubble of life, outside the pages of the storybook; she was the reader looking in, untouched, unaffected.

And then the words jumped off the pages and wrapped round her like chains, dragging her in.

She was the one being watched now.

Axel didn't hide like Dexné, didn't dart within shadows. In fact he didn't 'follow' her at all. He placed himself in the one place he knew she'd have to return to: the Grey Area.

At dawn she'd find him there, stretched out on the couch like a lazy cat, arms behind his head, booted feet sometimes resting on the coffee table; to all the world so relaxed and unassuming. Green eyes that once glimmered with warmth and sincerity now burned into her with a cold calculating fire. She could feel those eyes subtly narrowed upon her.

She was not fooled by his uncaring stance. Perhaps she would've been, if she never heard their secret whisperings. He listened as Saïx expelled her mission's details, causally leaned his head back to catch every rasped word that escaped in reply. Whether Dexné was coming or going, she could feel his stare. She never let on that she knew, remained stoic and detached despite the strong instinct to recoil and stagger away like a startled mare.

She wasn't careful once, stared. His eyes locked onto hers and he smiled. The seemingly friendly gesture shocked her, confusion joining the flutter in her stomach.

She kept her head down, did her job. That always got her through.

This time, however, she was not allowed to go about her business in the rudimentary way.

It was almost frightening how he could anticipate when and where she'd be. Or perhaps what was more alarming was that he went where no one else dared to go. He was waiting for her in the shadowy hall leading to her chambers, which was justly called Shadow's Hall.

He leaned against the wall, his red hair and black coat a stark contrast against the barren white surface, staring off into space as if he were a bored teenager and would rather be anywhere else than where he was. Dexné held back, watching him, secretly hoping his boredom would Corridor him out of there, and yet another side wished he remained.

She stood watching too long, long enough for him to sense he wasn't alone. He turned his head slightly and squinted into the dark that cloaked her. She stepped forward into the dim lighting as to not appear suspicious. A smile quickly adorned his mouth. It was the same smile she'd seen him use at Castle Oblivion, an expression disguised as friendly but, under exemplary scrutiny, was really sharp and cold and fake. She had rather hoped he'd abandoned the smile at that accursed castle…

"Nulla," he called, pushing off the wall and striding towards her, "think I could steal a second?"

"You have," she wanted to say, "and much more," but remained silent, letting him know her consent only by the slight dip of her head.

"I was hoping you could take care of something for me." He reached into a pocket, withdrew papers, presented them to her. She took them without complaint.

She quickly scanned the mission details and lifted her eyes in confusion, but he could not see the face hidden in the hood. He was employing her assistance in finding simple treasure chests? Multiple missions, in fact, with nearly the same objective: to find things for him. In various worlds, too. She would have to do all that in addition to not only her missions, but quite a few of Demyx's missions as well. It couldn't be done in a 24-hour time period, not if she wanted any rest.

He was watching her, waiting.

She tucked the papers into her coat.

That smile slid on his face again. "I knew I could count on you."

And then, as he moved passed her, she felt his hand come down on her shoulder for the briefest and softest of touches before it slipped off as he went on his way. The tingling shivers she remembered rushed from the contact point and it took all her willpower not to jump like a startled rabbit. Every instinct inside her screamed _evade, evade, run, evade_. She stood still as a rod for several moments, waiting for the shrieking to die. When it did, she felt odd and out of sorts. She was not hurt. She was just…warm.

It was strange, she found, to be touched and not feel pain, but instead feel something almost…pleasant.

The next morning Demyx would find the mission papers he had shed onto Dexné taped to the door of his room, awaiting him for completion.

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**A/N: Reviews are very loved!  
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	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you VidiaPhoenix, Wounded Wing, mysteryreader6626, Anony, and Guest! Your reviews are what kept me going. :) I hope you all find this chapter satisfactory.  
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* * *

**::X::**

"Nulla does everything I tell her to. She took my last couple missions. She say anything to you?—Or Xemnas?"

"Not a word. I think it's time we tested her reticence further."

"You know, you're starting to sound like Vexen. It's creepy."

"Just give her this. We'll see how well she can be handled once you leave for Castle Oblivion."

* * *

Dexné's silent footfalls gave no testimony to the speed with which she moved. She picked a dead leaf from her coat, the only proof she'd been out, and tucked it into her pocket where it would likely be forgotten until the time came to restock her hi-potions and elixirs. A time that came about more and more often. An ache spread from her back where she was lambasted by a Heartless. A clouded mind made for ill-timed evasions.

She went into her room and prepared to write a report. She used a hard-cover book as a surface since she didn't have a desk, and sat with it on her lap. Pen poised above paper, she stopped. A strange sensation came over her, one that made it harder to breathe or think. Searching memories, she labeled the falsified feeling as guilt. She was going to write yet another report the Superior would never see. She was being made to act behind his back. And she supposed she should be angry with Axel, or Saïx, or frustrated at herself for, despite knowing their intentions, not being able to do anything about it.

She couldn't make sense of the assignments they gave her. Sometimes she could see the importance of some tasks, other times it seemed she was being sent on wild goose chases. The mission she just completed, however, was a clearly laid test.

"Here." Axel entrusted her with a small cylindrical container, having caught her early that morning in Shadow's Hall. "Leave it in Twilight Town, in the woods, third tree left of the brick wall. Let Saïx know you've done it." His palm pressed to her shoulder blade and sporadic flutters beat wildly in her chest. He leaned in, shifting from the previous business tone to a gentle murmur. "I really appreciate you helping me..."

And just for a moment she almost let herself slip back to simpler times, to close her eyes and believe he was speaking to her as his friend, and not some pawn.

Though she wondered what was inside the container she did not open it, nor did she even shake it to gauge what might be within. She did as told. For him. And for ingrained obedience. She also feared that if she were to tamper with it a trap would spring.

Report folded in pocket, Dexné exited to the halls, on her way to Saïx. She wondered what he did with the papers. Surely he wouldn't risk keeping them. Maybe he burned them.

A shadow flickered in the edge of her vision. Something was following her.

It was the Dusk with the markings, the one that seemed abnormally attached to Saïx. Though Dusks hovered after her regularly, something about the way that one was swishing in and out from around corners put Dexné on edge.

The Dusk disappeared before she reached Number VII.

"Well done, Dexné," he said, eyes grazing over the paper before settling on her with an eerie watchfulness. "Go. Attend to your duties. By the way," he called softly, stopping her, "I believe Axel was looking for you."

She nodded, knowing he really meant to say, "Axel has another job for you."

Dexné carried on as if she knew nothing of their plans, as if it was just the methodical duties she always received. She didn't know how long she'd be able to keep it up. If she were questioned by the Superior… To withhold information was one thing, but to outright lie?

She brought back another item Axel requested, and as he gripped her shoulder, saying, "Good girl." she was reminded of a dog playing fetch with its master.

His smile was becoming more and more disarming. Dexné secretly frowned on her own weakness. She knew, yet still she allowed herself to be deceived.

She felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder, the warmth spreading through even the heavy black coat. He leaned down, mouth close to her ear which was veiled by the black cloth of the hood. "I won't be around for a while," he said. "I can trust you to take care of things while I'm gone, yeah?"

"As you say," was her immediate response, delivered flat and lifeless. She did not question. He presented a reason anyway.

"Good. I'll be looking for Naminé—you know, the memory witch that escaped on my watch. Oops." He waved his other hand as if it didn't really matter. "My mess, so I get to clean it."

Dexné said nothing. Her thoughts drifted to the little girl in white. He let Naminé go purposely—to ruin Marluxia's plans. And it worked. But Dexné wondered if that was the sole reason. After all, he made no effort to recapture the girl, and Dexné knew his current objective wasn't to find Naminé—it was to find the 'chamber' he and Saïx had spoken of. The witch could distort memories. Was that not a frightening ability that could be used against them if left unchecked?

Blood ran through Dexné's veins at a quicker pace and her stomach clenched. Naminé was a ruse. Dexné didn't know what was in this 'chamber' but whatever it was Axel and Saïx hoped to use it against the Superior. The urge to turn around and shout at him boiled up. Why were they trying to subterfuge the very man who headed the cause to get their lost hearts back?

Then his hand ran from her shoulder down to her back and all thought fled her. She could feel him too close, his dark tenor whispering in her ear.

"You've got things covered here, right?"

Dexné nodded mutely.

"That's a good girl."

* * *

Axel went to see them before he left.

Dexné snuck up to the clock tower, watched from the shadows. The setting sun shone brightly, casting their forms with a warm glow. She, in the dark and cool shade, became entranced by it, by lambent gold and burning red. Their voices swirled in the empty pockets of her mind.

"Are the kids here on summer vacation already? …Nah, can't be. It's much too early."

Roxas looked to Axel, his golden hair waving in the breeze. "Summer vacation? What's that?"

Axel sighed wistfully. "It's a dream come true, that's what—where they get a whole month off."

She listened with the vigilance of an owl, watched with the sharp eyes of a hawk. Words exchanged between friends. Exchanges that made Dexné see just how warm Axel's eyes could be…and how cold they were to her in comparison. Full realization of how she was being played hit her. Her chest tightened, and air was harder to obtain. His eyes, when on her, still held daggers. Behind the pleasant tone and pleasant smile was deceit. And to think, she almost allowed herself to believe it was turning real, that perhaps he really did see her as an ally and not a tool. Seeing him smile with Roxas, however, quickly dislodged that scant hope.

"Most kids spend the time just goofing around with their friends. They save the homework till the end then help each other finish it."

"That sounds fun, I guess."

"Hanging around friends is fun. I'd forgotten that since becoming a Nobody."

A deep, simmering feeling settled in Dexné's gut, like she had been forced to swallow a hot coal. She wondered what else he had forgotten, and if she was included in that forlorn group—that _'baggage.'_

Xion showed up soon after. And Axel spoke to the faceless puppet just as affectionately as he did to Roxas. A replica, nothing more than a doll and completely expendable to everyone else, but to him was called friend.

A baseless puppet was worth more to him than she.

Her chest tightened further, and the coal threatened to burn a hole through her belly.

Back at the castle, she marched down abandoned halls, thoughts tearing up whirlwinds that soon morphed into dark tornadoes, restless and consuming.

The confines of her room incited no rest. She kept walking, going from one end of the square space to the other, touching the wall, then rushing to the other side to do the same. Back and forth, back and forth. She intended it as a distraction, but the gears in her head only spun faster.

"They're sending me out on recon for a few days."

"Where?" Roxas asked.

Dexné could still see Axel's playful grin in her mind's eye, could still see the finger he held up to his lips. "Can't tell."

"But…" Xion's voice wavered uncertainly. "I thought we were friends."

A grin, a flash of white teeth. "Hey I'm not about to tell you all my dark secrets. Got it memorized?"

"Dark secrets?" Roxas turned, sharing a glance with the hooded replica.

Axel chuckled disarmingly. "I'm kidding. I just have to keep my mouth shut about it or Saïx will get on my case. Try not to bungle everything while I'm gone."

Surprisingly Xion, a quiet doll whenever Dexné passed by in the Grey Area, was the one to verbalize offense. "Hey! We can handle ourselves just fine."

Axel laughed, clear and strong. The laughs of the other two soon joined in.

Dexné trembled as she recalled the sounds. Their laughter mocked her, their smiles scorned her. The joy they shared was out of her reach. Whether it was fake or not no longer seemed to matter.

Dexné had found a scrap of solace where she never expected it. Saïx.

"You're letting yourself get too close to them," he chastised when Axel returned.

Emerald eyes became hard as the green stone. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

A sharp frown marred the Diviner's face, yellow glare acidic with distaste. "…You know, you've changed."

Saïx's admonishment of Axel placated her slightly, but simultaneously caused apprehension. Dexné agreed with the bluenette, and though she had stood in shadows she imagined herself standing with him, in comradery, but the redhead's dismissive response had her wringing her hands and biting her lip.

_Don't leave us behind,_ Dexné silently pleaded as she swished from wall to wall. _Don't forget about us!_

Faster, faster, until her walk became a run. Wall to wall. She puffed, blood drumming, cogs of her mind spinning out of control.

Choke them. She wanted to choke the brats, to wrap her chains around their necks and—

Dexné fell to the floor, in-between the walls, grasping her head. _Stop, stop! _something shrieked. Then more gently, wearily: _Please, just…stop. _

It was her own voice, echoing somewhere deep within. She'd heard it once before.

Dexné didn't hate. Not people. But there was a time she came very close. And the reason for it was never fully understood. She remembered how it disturbed her so, remembered how she tried to escape from it. But no matter how she shoved the crooked, smothering feelings away they rebounded, latching on.

Everything had been fine. It was just her, Lea, and Isa. Inch by inch she was coming from her shell, pulled by the red star and the blue moon. She was able to talk, she was able to laugh—things the shadowed hull never allowed before.

Then that girl came into the picture, and the progress Dexné made was reduced to nothing.

* * *

She was beautiful, that much Dexné remembered instantly, though the full visage of her was covered by black mist. The black screen would not dissipate, and it was as if her mind did not want to recollect that time. But Dexné clawed out at it, and, steadily, shards of memory were revealed and reluctantly slid into place.

"Where is he?" Dexné pondered, waiting by the usual school exit.

Isa checked his watch. "Let's go. He knows where to find us."

"Do you think something has happened?" She thought of Zane.

There was a knowing light in Isa's eyes. "He's fine. He probably got caught up in something else."

Isa carried on normally, but Dexné hesitated at the change. She scanned the hall, hoping to see Lea come running around the corner any second. When he didn't, she hurried to catch up with Isa. At the stone wall, Dexné waited still. She should be used to waiting; it was all she seemed to do. But the heaviness it laid could not be easily brushed aside. She absently scraped her bottom teeth along her ice cream, collecting cold shavings on her tongue. She listened for him. But she did not look—looking made the heaviness worse, made it so it was hard to breathe.

Lea never showed.

In the morning Dexné waited for the bell to ring, sitting in her usual spot against the wall. She waited more so for Lea to come and find her, to talk to her as he always did. When he didn't she went through the school day with a knot in her stomach. Finally she saw him at lunch. He sat talking with Isa, using some exaggerated hand movements to deliver a point. The familiar sight brought out a small smile from Dexné. She took her place with them, sitting across the table from Isa and next to Lea, her posture sagging in relief as the knot dissolved.

Near the end of the lunch period, Isa squinted at the small object in Dexné's grasp. "Is that a jar of pickle juice?"

"Yes," was her frank reply. She took another sip of the tart beverage. She had finished eating and her leftovers were already packed away in the bag at her feet, leaving her tablespace clear and tidy.

"Do I even want to ask why you're drinking it?"

Dexné paused. "…Well, you kind of just did."

Blue eyebrows rose. "And the answer?"

"It's good," she defended softly, fingers protectively circling the container.

Isa made a face.

Lea chuckled. "Everyone's got their quirks. - - - just might have more than your average person."

"You're one to talk," Isa retorted, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

Lea narrowed his eyes mischievously. "I bet it is good," he said, and, taking the hint, Dexné was quick to offer the jar to him.

Lea gulped a portion of the pale green juice, and Dexné watched in morbid fascination as Isa's face adopted a similar shade of green. Lea nearly choked as laughter bubbled in his throat.

Isa shook his head, a smirk making its way to the surface. "You're so obnoxious. Pickle juice—drinking out of the same jar to boot."

"She's not contagious." He poked her cheek as if that would prove it.

"Your mouth is touching the same spot as hers," Isa goaded.

Dexné waited in trepidation for a reaction of disgust, but all Lea did was shrug indifferently. Out the corner of her eye she stared as he brought the glass to his lips again, and something stirred inside her. It made her uncomfortable, whatever it was, yet she wasn't sure if it was good or bad. The confusion that grappled her, however, she determined to be bad. And so she spoke, wanting to move away from the strange feelings fluttering inside her.

"I actually have rabies," she whispered. "That's why I drink pickle juice—it keeps me from biting people."

Juice sprayed from Lea's mouth back into the jar and as he coughed into his arm Dexné frowned at the contaminated drink forlornly. But as Lea's and Isa's laughter trickled through it was forgotten.

"What are you guys tryin' to do, kill me?!" Lea spoke between coughs and laughs.

Isa shook in his seat, attempting and failing to contain his amusement.

The misbeat tune of their laughter wrapped around Dexné and she couldn't help but join in, her hand coming up to cover her smiling mouth. Despite his fits, Lea still reached to pull that hand away.

The moment came to a halt when Lea locked onto something past Dexné's head.

"Gotta go," he said hastily. He rushed off before Dexné could open her mouth to ask where.

Isa scoffed, his mirthful smirk only serving to drive her confusion further. Exactly what had Lea so distracted? She tried to see where he was going but just then the bell rang and swarms of moving students scattered her line of sight. She swiftly gathered her bag and joined the migrating herds, tossing the jar into a trash bin on the way out to her next class.

She would ask him at the stone wall, she decided. But again, he didn't show.

Frustrated, she went looking for him in the morning. He wasn't with Isa in the library, nor mingling with the various groups littering the halls. She looked and looked, wandering all over the school. She was about to give up when she came across Sera, who, even in the early hours, bussed around with folders and books under her arms.

Sera smiled kindly, even as she haphazardly tried to open the library door with her foot. "Hi, - - -. You—look lost."

Dexné hurried to open the door for her. Ignoring Sera's breathy thanks, she asked, "Have you seen Lea?"

She pointed Dexné in the right direction, bracelets jingling.

She found him in an uncrowded hallway, almost deserted save for a few students rifling through their lockers or walking to class early. He was talking to some girl—a willowy thing, slender and pretty. Her rose pink long-sleeved shirt's modesty clashed with her grey and white pleated mini-skirt. Shiny golden brown hair, hanging in voluminous curls, daintily brushed her shoulders.

Dexné, though she stood at the far end of the hall, heard the girl giggle at something Lea said, who then flashed his signature bright grin. Dexné stared at them, flabbergasted. Was he making a new friend?

She retreated at the bell's screech, unnoticed.

Dexné intended to ask Lea about the girl at lunch, but he sat with the girl at the other end of the lunchroom and she dared not approach. Dexné didn't eat much. She felt queasy and chewed slowly, mulling over the new face. Would she have to give up her space on the wall, scoot over? After a few swallows, Dexné determined the food not to be the culprit to her sudden condition.

A new friend bothered her. What was wrong with the friends he already had? But then she wondered if Isa thought similarly when Lea first brought her around and the notion tightened around her chest. She breathed deep to loosen the coils.

Lea spent less time with them, often being called away by 'Curly,' as Dexné came to refer to her. Curly's real name never cemented in memory; they were never properly introduced. But Dexné became very familiar with those doe eyes when they searched out Lea, drawing him away from them. She smiled innocently at Isa and Dexné once when this happened, but that smile slid when she caught black eyes focused on her with an ecliptic glare.

It was just Isa and Dexné again at the end of school. Dexné walked beside him, all the while trying to comprehend Lea's intentions. If Curly was truly to be a friend, why had he yet to bring her into their fold? But she wasn't sure if she wanted that. No, what she really wanted was for Curly to disappear. Dexné stopped walking, the soles of her shoes scuffing against the cobblestone.

Isa looked back at her. "What's the matter?"

Her face was grim. What was she thinking? Had she just wished death on someone? "I…forgot something."

He motioned toward the school. "Hurry up, then."

"No, don't wait for me. I'm…actually not feeling well. I think I'll skip ice cream today—if it's okay."

Isa shrugged, unfazed. "Sure. See you tomorrow."

"Yes…" She watched him go, the uneasy feeling in her stomach churning, then turned back.

She needed to be alone, she needed to think. She was…frightened, almost. She headed towards her special place—the small clearing in the woods behind the old school. The sigh of the trees and the whisperings of the grass would help calm her as she sorted through her consternations.

She never made it to the meadow though. She only got as far as the old building.

It was there she caught the two of them together.

He had her pressed against the brick wall, lips sealed over her gloss covered ones. The sound of their kisses and the sight of her fingers threaded through his red hair, his hands straddling her waist, wrenched Dexné's stomach.

Quicker than lightning she was gone, dashing for home.

Terraces and roads flew by and beneath her, and she could hear nothing but her gasps and the wind that pushed past with every long-bounded stride. She yanked the front door of her house open, threw herself inside. Then stared into nothingness, thoughts and images racing, tangling. Her heart punched her ribs too hard.

Slowly she shut the door, carefully treaded down the hall. Her mind, in overdrive, gave no loose rope for faster motor functions. Storming emotions made thinking difficult. One thing she was certain of: that girl was no friend, and was never going to be.

Dexné didn't go to school the next day. No prodding or concerned inquires would pry her from bed, so Mirron let her be. "Just for today," she said, worry hidden under the firm tone.

She avoided Lea like the plague afterwards, going so far as to eat lunch in the girls' bathroom. She wanted no chance of seeing him. Wanted no chance of seeing that—that girl of his.

The stone wall beckoned, and she listened, dragging herself to it. She owed it to Isa. She couldn't abandon him. It wasn't his fault. Whatever the 'fault' was, Dexné didn't fully know. Thankfully Lea wasn't there.

"Sorry to leave you. I wasn't feeling well." She pulled up onto the stone, slipping her legs over the side.

Isa looked at her blankly. "I can take care of myself, you know. No need to apologize."

She sat with him. Companionable silence stretched like a long and well-taken road. Her fingers turned the ice cream stick, and she spaced out, suddenly mesmerized by twirling frozen dairy.

"Is something bothering you?" Isa's voice was quiet.

Dexné squirmed. "Lea, he… That girl…" She sighed, frustrated at her poor communication. She couldn't tell the truth of her dark thoughts and didn't want to lie either. That left her with little to say. "He hasn't been around."

Isa snorted contemptuously. "Don't worry, he'll come around. It's just another one of his flings. They never last."

"Oh…" Hearing that should have relieved her. It meant Curly wouldn't take her spot on the wall. But bewilderingly, it just made her want to chuck her ice cream off the plateau. _Another…?_

Dexné continued her dodge and touch method. Touch base with blue, dodge any sign of red. She lingered when she could with Isa, but at the first sight of Lea she darted out of there like a hunted hare and disappeared. Over time Curly ceased to monopolize Lea, and he became harder to hide from.

She crept around corners, made sure the redhead wasn't present before venturing out into the hallways. Eventually that behavior extended to the stone wall. It didn't take long for Lea to figure out something was wrong.

"Where's - - -?" she heard him ask just after she ducked into the bathroom.

"She hasn't been feeling well." Isa fed the excuse with a hint of doubt, stare lingering at the bathroom entrance.

Lea started seeking her out, which made the game of dodge and go exceedingly more difficult. Dexné was late to almost every class because she waited until the halls were clear.

"Are you still sick? What do you have?" the bluenette asked her one day, eyes narrowing upon her.

"…I'm not well."

"That wasn't the question."

Dexné avoided Isa too after that. She couldn't tell him—couldn't tell anyone. They wouldn't get it. How could they when she couldn't understand herself? She would be scorned, derided without mercy. She wouldn't risk that. And so she ran and hid, back into the shadow where it was safe but cold.

It was better to pull away rather than let them see the twistedness that lied inside.

* * *

Nulla of the Organization shuddered on the cold hard floor of her chamber.

Something so trivial, something so foolish drove her back into the shadowed walls. Was that all it took to break a bond? The Nobody sneered at her human self, who was so controlled by emotions she could not bear to pretend they didn't exist, to carry on with strength instead of succumbing to the heart's wiles. How thankful she was to be free of that nuisance.

Recollections flashed uncontrollably. Dexné could do nothing but watch. She gripped her head, grit her teeth.

She just prayed what she watched did not lead to the end of that friendship.

* * *

**...**

**A/N: Reviews are cherished!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Urgh... I have been so sick. Thankfully I wrote most of this chapter before the fever muddled my brain. Most. I hope the rest of it isn't too terrible.  
**

**Thank you Wounded Wing, ren7720, Lunar Loon, AllOtherNamesHaveBeenTaken, and Anony for reminding me to keep pushing forward! I liked reading your guesses and suggestions, too. I can't wait to show you what comes! I... I better get writing! 0_0 *runs off to Word*  
**

* * *

**::XI::**

No matter how hard she tried to not think of it, the image of him, pressing her against that brick wall, continually blinked in her mind's eye. The heat of rage screamed its draconian battle cry, shame bellowed low and mournful, and confusion carved its path through Dexné like a twister. She and Lea were friends—the urge to lash out at him shouldn't exist. Yet it did.

Dexné's condition did not improve. She hoped avoiding them would diminish her feelings. Instead they only festered.

"Hey, wait up!"

Dexné, out of habitual obedience, halted.

Curly ran up to her—a girly sort of trot that Dexné could easily outwalk. "You're - - -? Listen, Lea's been really worried about you. Can you go talk to him?"

Dexné stared at the intruder, dark eyes gleaming with the storm that brewed within.

The girl tilted her head, regarded her with wary confusion. "Um, you're…you're not still sick, are you? I can take you down to the nurse..."

Dexné wondered how long it would take to choke her out.

Curly shifted. "Are you okay?" She sounded genuinely concerned and, for some perverse reason, this made the pressure in Dexné's chest worse; like a dagger, twisting.

_Stop, _commanded Dexné's mind. _Shut up! _

Her heart didn't listen.

Before the wretched thing could take control and make her strike out, Dexné spun on her heel, leaving Curly in a cloud of bewilderment.

_Stop. She's a nice person. There's no need to feel this way. Stop._

No matter what she told herself to feel, or not feel, the desire to hurt someone remained. There was a beast roaming inside of her, stalking and growling, and it wanted to maul. It would not be placated, it would not be talked down, and nothing distracted its feral focus. It was the heart, the thing people drew on cards and notes to express love and devotion—but it was so much more. It was a usurper, it was the monster whispering treachery to the logical mind. From sunshine happiness to thunderclap rage in a single beat. It could not be trusted. But neither could it be ignored, for to ignore it would not be human. And how Dexné wished in that moment to be more machine than man, to do what was right and what was needed—and not be hindered by what all people possessed.

It wasn't the first time Dexné hated being human. It wouldn't be the last. Her heart pushed her to act on the feelings it shaped, feelings born from misunderstood illogicalities, and not necessarily facts. Why did she feel the way she did? Her mind said no to hurting Lea, but her heart commanded _scream, kick, claw, bite._

_Feelings are not facts_, she repeated like a chant. _Feelings are not facts_.

Even when Isa's premonition came true, when she heard from whispers of the gossip vine that Lea and Curly parted amicably, the hurricane in Dexné refused to calm. Typical of a high school relationship to end quickly, not so typical for it to end peacefully; she couldn't help but be curious. She didn't know why they broke up, but the whisperers didn't give any concrete reasons beyond their own assumptions.

Her mind was apologetic, murmuring discontent. Had she creeped the girl out, chased her off with silently projected animosity—and ruined everything for Lea? Her heart, meanwhile, shamelessly crowed in victory.

But with mind and heart merged, it wasn't long before shame enveloped both. She slinked in shadow like a reproached dog.

She didn't know how long she'd be able to keep hiding from him but, knowing Lea, it should have been obvious she couldn't outrun him forever.

Padded footsteps whispered in the empty hall. The bell had already rung and Dexné assumed she was safe. Classrooms had their doors shut and rows of lockers stood vigil like silent armored sentinels. Again she moved and lived on the outside, away from others. An isolation self-imposed. And it was familiar. Cold, but safe.

She turned the corner, intent on retrieving books from her locker, and there he was. An ambush, laid where he knew she'd return to. He leaned against her locker, red hair splayed like wild flames painted on the dark metal, arms crossed, a pensive expression pulling down the corners of his mouth and pinching his brow. He looked up, eyes brightening on her. He said her name, but she did not answer him. She hesitated, but ultimately decided to forget the books in the locker and walked on, head down, chest tightening.

He called after her again, quickly catching up. He grabbed her elbow. "What's been going on with you?" When she did not answer, he persisted. "Hey, tell me."

She yanked free, tried to keep walking. He was in front of her in an instant. His frown was harsh, eyes burning hotly. "Have I ever mentioned how much I _hate _being ignored?" he said lowly, the closest to dangerous she'd heard from him at that point.

She stood still, but did not look from the floor. He leaned down to stare her in the face. "Tell me what's wrong," he ordered, then, softly, "Did I do something?"

She said nothing, emotions rushing in like thunderclouds on her brain. She couldn't think. What was she supposed to tell him? She didn't understand it herself. She hated that girl, hated how close they were. Again the picture of them touching and kissing flashed hot as a knife and the dark rage seeped from her black glare—just a little more and the floor tiles would melt from the potency of it.

"You know, I can't read your mind." He let out a gust of exasperated breath, muttering, "Why do girls always play this game?" so quietly she wasn't sure if she was meant to hear it.

"I'm not well," she got out, finally. She side-stepped, but again he blocked her.

"You don't avoid humanity just because you don't 'feel well', _\- - -!_" He put emphasis on her name, a name she couldn't remember hearing. But at that time, in that moment when she could decipher the label that defined her, it made her flinch like a child slapped.

She gripped the strap of her shoulder bag. Her hands didn't shake that way.

"What—did—I—do?" He tried once more, bemused anger crackling like fire in his green irises.

"Nothing," she bit out swiftly. "It's nothing. Just—leave me alone. You're annoying."

She regretted it as soon as she said it.

He drew back, hurt melding into his face, damping the fire into smoky hisses trying to catch back on. He stared at her for a long moment, seconds ticking by in excruciating silence. The knife twisted with each tick, and the impulse to flee seized Dexné. She rushed past him, and he let her go.

Not yet five feet from him, she stopped. What was she doing? He was one of the only friends she had. Sense finally broke through the dark waters of her heart, screeching for air, screaming for her to do something, don't let those fires go out. At last, heart and mind were in agreement.

"I'm sorry," she threw out, voice small but clear. "I just…"

"We're friends, - - -, aren't we?" he asked, and the guarded, almost undetectable, vulnerability in his voice sent her over the edge.

She whirled. "I want to choke a puppy!"

Lea's eyes widened. "S'cuse me?"

"I want to choke a puppy, and I don't know why! I don't want to want to, but—but that is the way I am feeling and I don't like it, I…" She went mute, feeling incredibly stupid. She blinked rapidly, desperate for composure. "I have to remain isolated," she said, tone flat, "else I'll punch someone in the face. I am unable to process my state of being—it is no fault of anyone but myself. And quite frankly, if I were to hit you…I would be on the floor with a broken face, and you wouldn't have so much as a black eye. Goodbye."

She spun, speeding off.

"Punch me, then!" he called after her.

She stopped, snapped around. "What?"

"Punch me," he said simply, throwing his hands up and down in a conceding shrug, "if it makes you feel better. I won't hit back."

She gaped, mouth open, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, in the firm line of his mouth. Dexné felt like she was the one being choked now. "You're—you're _weird_!"

"Better than being a robot. Come on, hit me. I can take it."

Her knuckles turned white, but all of her was shaking now and it did nothing to hide the fact.

So she ran.

It was the only thing she knew to do.

* * *

Dexné entered her home, the old door creaking shut behind her. The squeaky floorboard by the powder room announced her arrival to the empty living area. She dropped her bag at her feet, staring off into space, thinking about Lea. About Isa. And how unfair, how incorrigible she was being. She thought about what started the entire mess, and immediately the flare of anger overwhelmed her. That stupid girl and her stupid, bouncy hair. And stupid Lea for—for…

Dexné knew the real reason behind her anger. She knew, deep in the back of her mind, but refused to acknowledge it, refused to bring it out and examine it, ask herself why. She wanted to pretend it wasn't there.

_Friends, we are friends. Just friends. Stop feeling like this, stop._

A sharp light stabbed her eye. An antique mirror hung on the wall, reflecting the sunlight from the window. She went to it, drawn in like a moth.

She stared back at herself. A dull stare from a dull girl. She noticed traits about herself she hadn't before: Her roundish face with its full cheeks and deep-set, heavy-lidded eyes that always made her appear sleepy. The round tip of her nose that made it look slightly larger than it really was. And when she smiled it made her cheeks look fatter. All her life, she never liked nor disliked the way she looked—she never took time to analyze or criticize. Until that moment, staring in a tarnished, old mirror. She was frumpy, she was pudgy—oh, so many things she could count off that were unsightly, and she'd be there forever if she tried.

She sucked in her cheeks, but all that did was make her look like a fish out of water. Frowning now, she thought of the traits she wished she had, and, unfortunately, it made her think of the one person she wanted as far from her mind as possible.

Curly's face was refined, with high cheekbones and a straight nose. Curly had beautiful golden brown hair, sleek and shiny. Dexné had neither the luminescence of a true blonde nor the dark allure of a brunette. She was stuck in the middle with floppy hair the color of wet sand. Curly, on the other hand, had the best of both. Curly wasn't stocky like Dexné, either; her long, slender legs stretched high into that short skirt. Dexné looked down at her thick thighs. Her legs weren't hulkish, but they were strong; they propelled her through the air when she ran—it was the reason for her speed. She should have been proud of the swiftness her legs provided. Instead she covered them in shame. Long skirts, long shorts, or pants—never anything above the knee.

Staring in the mirror a moment longer, Dexné came to a conclusion. She was ugly.

_Ugly, ugly—your looks and your feelings._ Glinting, spiteful eyes glared back at her, nose and brow wrinkled, disgusted. She plucked a book from a nearby shelf and flung it against the far wall in a childish flare of indignance.

Rushed footsteps resounded from the kitchen. Her mother came bustling into the room. "What was that? What's wrong?"

"Nothing…"

Mirron's eyes darted from her daughter to the book on the floor. "You don't throw things over nothing. Tell me what the matter is."

Dexné paused, swallowing. "I'm ugly," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders as if it weren't a big deal.

Mirron frowned, her wrinkles deepening into shadowed grooves, hands perched on her hips. "You most certainly are not. Who told you such a thing?"

"…I did." She turned and ran upstairs to her room. The locked door let no one in.

Dexné didn't want to be ugly—who did? She wanted to be beautiful like Curly, as much as she hated to admit it.

In the early days Dexné read many books, some of which contained stories of castles and dragons and princesses. Though she'd never confess it, Dexné sometimes imagined herself as the princess, the lovely being who gets rescued from the ferocious dragon by a handsome prince. But she wasn't that. And, remembering it as Nulla, she never would be. She was not the princess; she was the dragon. But she did not kidnap or hold hostage. She saw herself as the protector of the castle, her master, her comrades. She was there for their benefit, not their expense, and perhaps that was how all those dragons in the storybooks saw themselves as well…

But as a Somebody, she wasn't aware of her future role. She believed she could still be that princess.

So the next day she tried being beautiful, something she never attempted before. Taking note of what the other girls her age wore, she donned a similar styled shirt—the only one of its kind in her wardrobe. It was tight and a little low-cut, but not much, and its thick straps made up for the lack of sleeves. She donned a long skirt with it—no way was she making compromises there. Dressed, and fairly pleased with herself, she left for school.

Her entire day was miserable.

Other girls got away with similar, even skimpier, tops. But not Dexné. She failed to take her bust size into account. She was an early bloomer, and though she would be considered average in that department as an adult, as a teenager she surpassed her peers. Therefore the teachers called her out on her attire—even when a girl with a smaller top, and chest, was sitting in the desk next to her.

She could've borne it. And she did. Until she got to Ms. Cranky's class.

Ever since she began ignoring everyone, Lea had been taking advantage of the only class he shared with her. He'd make hard eye contact with her when he walked in, or when she arrived, depending who was first seated, and would throw notes at her when that irate teacher wasn't looking. He popped her in the side of the head with one particularly large balled up paper the day before, irritation set in his expression.

That day, however, as soon as he laid eyes on her his gaze widened to saucers. He looked down, the top of his desk suddenly very interesting.

She went to her desk, sinking down, hoping to fade amongst the students. No such luck. As soon as Ms. Cranky got her in her sights, that was it. And she couldn't handle it like the other teachers, to just give Dexné a warning and move on. No, the woman had to make a spectacle of it.

Dexné was made to stand in front of the entire class, berated before the sight of everyone.

"What were you thinking when you got dressed this morning? Were you thinking at all?"

"I just—it—" she sputtered weakly, her brain clawing for an excuse. "It was—lau-laundry day, I had nothing—"

"You expect me to believe you had nothing else?" The teacher crossed her arms, looked sharply down her pointed nose.

Dexné said nothing for a moment, frozen in the glare of a predator. "I— I was led to believe it was acceptable. I've seen plenty of girls who've worn—"

The teacher's face contorted. "I assure you no one has been to this school wearing _that_!"

Pressed under the needle glare of the teacher, feeling the weight of all her classmates' eyes, Dexné couldn't breathe. Her entire body heated up, dizziness rolled in her head. And when she thought of Lea witnessing her disgrace, her heart sank its own fangs in, tore itself to pieces—anything to escape the utter humiliation. Her eyes stung, her vision blurred, and she swayed, fearing for a moment she would faint.

"Now, you can march yourself right down to the principal's office and change. Perhaps in the future you will actually think—"

"Lay the hell off her!" Lea's enraged voice followed the screech of his chair as he abruptly stood. His outburst lent enough strength for her to retain consciousness, but too late for dignity. Lea had been tough enough to take multiple beratings from the entire class with a mocking grin and straight back, and held his head high during and after the incident; Dexné was too weak to withstand even one, having already shrunk in on herself like a morning glory under the spotlight blaze of the noonday sun.

Dexné whirled and blasted out the door, the hinges shrieking, the knob hitting the wall with a bam. She left her books. She got out just in the nick of time as it was. Hot liquid stung her cheeks as she ran, not to the principal's office, but to home.

* * *

He brought her books to her house. Mirron answered the door. He wanted to see her. She wouldn't come out of her room.

She made a fool of herself. That was what she got for trying to fit in, for trying to be beautiful. Never again.

She wasn't permitted to skip another day. She begrudgingly went to school dragging her feet the entire way, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and baggy black pants. She intended to hide in the excessive cloth, not caring if, or perhaps not realizing, it made her look like a homespun blob. She sat, before the start of school, in her usual spot in the usual hall, waiting for the bell to ring. She would not look, or speak, or even hear, any of the people around her. She was a shadow, and she preferred it this way.

Shadows and light moved, sneakers squeaked, and clothing rustled as someone sat next to her. They did not speak, or look, or touch. Just sat.

Silence blanketed and hid. It calmed and yet provoked. She wanted to remain aloof yet curiosity barked a grating high-pitched yip, not letting up until she took a chance and spared a glimpse to her side. Lea stared thoughtfully at the wall opposite of them. Dexné looked back to the floor.

"Isa told me something yesterday." His smooth, unprickled voice startled her more than if he'd shouted. "He said…he said you were sad when I started spending less time with you guys and more time with—" He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Anyway, he said you might've felt ignored…"

Dexné went ridged, wide eyes glued to her feet. She felt his stare.

He spoke her name. "…We're friends. Just 'cause I hang out with other people doesn't mean I'm gonna forget you or Isa."

She nodded stiffly. He didn't get it—well, no, he got part of it. The part that truly mattered. And she was thankful he didn't realize—she wouldn't even think it.

_Just friends. Just friends._

He carefully placed his hand on her shoulder, like she was a skittish mare who would bolt at any sudden movement. Gently his grip squeezed and the contact made Dexné's heart leap in contradicting intervals of glee and fright. "We're okay. Right?"

She nodded.

He leaned in with an odd spark in his eye, whispered in her ear, "We're skipping the witch's class today."

Dexné's eyes hardened. "Yes."

He ruffled her hair, his bright grin breaking out with a sheen of white teeth.

They met out in the meadow in the woods. He goaded her into a game of tag, something Dexné had felt too old for, but as he teased and prodded and playfully darted between and behind trees her hesitant steps blossomed into full-out sprints as she ran to and from him. After which they laid in swaying grass, less than an arm's length away from one another, talking about nothing in particular, about subjects they hated, things they liked, and when was the cafeteria going to serve chicken tenders again so they could drown their plates in ketchup. The snowy emotions that had gagged Dexné gradually melted under the smile of dawn's sun.

They returned before the next class, and Dexné went through the day feeling lighter and warmer than she had in weeks. At the end of school, she walked with Lea to the stone wall. Isa was there, waiting. When she and Lea approached, though his face kept stony and passive, his gaze softened.

"Finally," he said, none amused.

Lea rested his arms behind his head, grinning broadly. "All together again, huh?"

Isa regarded both of them, gaze landing on one then the other, before matter-of-factly saying: "Morons. Both of you."

"Wha-?!"

"Okay."

"- - -, that's not something you agree with!"

Isa laughed at them, a quiet rumbling sound that started in his chest, and held up a bag of frozen delights. Just like that, they were together again, laughing and smiling as they did before.

The memory faded out into golden-red sunsets with blue and red and tarnished gold glowing in the ethereal light.

The friendship had not ended on the petty note of jealousy, and Dexné woke in her chamber feeling as if she had dodged a thousand bullets.

* * *

A thousand bullets dodge, but still more to come. Dexné was relived to find her friendship with Lea and Isa survived the green eyed beast, but knew in the depths of her soul it had not survived in the long run, and the strain of digging to find that which she did not want to face leeched more energy from her than even her countless missions.

She stalked the halls like a starving wolf, eyes always looking, ears always listening, and found that cursed marked Dusk following after her again.

Later on she turned the tables and skulked after it, and the Dusk for all its twitching and bending did not see her, for she was like the shadows themselves. No more was the little pitter-patter of her girlhood. If she had the skill back then that she had now, Lea would have never caught her, would have never ambushed her, and—and they would have…never reconciled.

She tossed the thought out so violently it almost made a sound—she suppressed the scoff and swallowed it. She could never be anything than what she was, and why change now? Why revert? She was an improvement, far superior to that stupid pubescent girl and the nervous ticks her heart had instilled. If she stilled possessed—or rather, if that _thing _known as the heart still possessed her, she would never be capable of her duties. She would stand in the Round Room with it pounding in her ears, shaking like a scared rabbit as the hawks on their thrones peered down at her.

She was free from that curse and became more machine just like she wanted. She didn't know how she got there, but she had and was glad for it, and the only thing she'd change was her correlation with Lea and Isa. If only they could be the ones sitting on that clock tower…

Dexné followed the marked Dusk, tracked it all the way to Saïx. Remaining in the dark hall, she stretch her neck like a horse looking for sugar cubes, listening for wisps of exchanged words.

The Dusk reached out with its slithery, snake-like hand and offered a cylindrical object which Saïx took. It seemed familiar to Dexné and when Saïx spoke she knew exactly what it was.

"My ink cartridge. Where was it?" The Diviner said it so loftily, he made it seem like it was the Dusk's fault for losing it, and anyone overhearing wouldn't spare it much thought because it was like him to do that.

As the barely audible whispers of woods and twilighted towns were snatched from the air, Dexné went cold. So it was a trap, or had been, and if she had tampered with it he would have known from the stains on the metallic container and the smell of ink in her gloves. But she hadn't tampered with it; she hadn't been caught in his snare. He had tested her, and she had passed. She tried to comfort herself with this knowledge but it did little good, for who was to say she would succeed the next one?

Days went on and Dexné did all that Saïx asked, never questioning, never visibly hesitating. She acted as if every order came from the Superior himself and did not permit even a hint of the doubt mounting in her soul to show through. Of course not every order came from the Superior—Saïx was acting of his own accord and she knew it. But if she let on for even a second that she knew it would be the end for her.

The marked Dusk spied on her for Saïx, but all the others spied for Xemnas.

She was in a too small cage being pressed from all sides. If she still had a heart she would have broken already, but as it was her instincts were clamoring for control. Fight or flight begged for reaction but she forced herself to stay poised.

In a reconnaissance mission in Halloween Town, her stress reared up more so. Shadowing through the dreary town, with its black sky and yellow moon, which cast both shadows and a glow on the tombstones, put Dexné into a state prickly and skittish, moving swiftly just so she could get out of there sooner. Though the eerie lighting gave her advantage there was a strange aura about the place that sent shiverings down her spine—and how she wished for just a spot of red or blue, anything to take off the edge of the sight of gray and purplish grave soil.

It was not red, but orange, that caught her eye. Chains materialized and chinked as she threw and snagged them on rusted wrought iron topping granite stone walls. She climbed, leaning back and walking up the walls while her chained arms held her aloft, and vaulted over the stone barriers once a foothold was established at the brim. She came into a patch of pumpkins, jagged faces carved and glowing. She frowned, sighing despondently.

A scratching noise made her jump and she went rigid in preparation for evasion, but was quickly calmed by the sight of a black cat dragging its claws against the wall. When it came nearer she tried to pet it, and when it ducked she did not pursue. Another sound snapped her upright and she knew right away it was no cat.

Dexné was well concealed by the time three children, all wearing horrid masks, barreled into the yard, whispering and snickering amongst each other. A witch, a devil, and a skull; she identified the masks scrunching her brow and wrinkling her nose. She knew of those children—brats, more like it.

Out of morbid curiosity she followed them and was surprised to see them lead to Roxas. Dexné had been to Halloween Town a few days ago, digging up ever migrating Heartless locations for the keybearers, and either Roxas was sorely ahead of schedule or Dexné was severely behind because they were not supposed to intersect like this.

"Trick or Treat," chorused the three children before the devil hurled a pumpkin into the Key of Destiny's face. Dexné noted it exploded upon impact, and filed the information away for the later report. As the children laughed Dexné could not smother a feeling of irritation. Irritation at them and at Roxas, who stood blinking stupidly.

Dexné crouched and moved through shadow, crawling along the ground like a puddle of dark, and when she reached them she straightened her legs and towered over them like an undead corpse coming up from the earth.

There was a tense moment, silent save for the slight clinking of Dexné's chains, in which she and the three children merely stared. Then the witch girl threw the pumpkin bomb she'd been hiding under her hat and everything flew into motion. Dexné flung herself to the side, landing and pivoting on her foot, pushing off and flying towards them, chains rattling.

"Little wretch!" she said, voice far too guttural and masculine, as she whipped the chain across the devil boy's mask, cracking it. Why she attacked the devil and not the witch who threw the bomb she wasn't sure. The children squealed and were quick to flee, hurling insults over their shoulders as they ran.

Roxas still looked like he was in a daze, even as Dexné approached him. "Nulla...?"

"Number XIII—do you dodge?" She spoke abruptly, coldly, though amidst agitation humming like a hive of hornets she was relieved to hear her voice, or lack thereof, back to its whispery rasp. Although it would have pleased her more to hear it return to the gentle, yet rickety, voice of her human days. Perhaps Axel would recog—she crashed the train of thought. Better that he didn't recognize her, at least until she knew the cause of their dissolution.

"Do I—? Of course I know how to dodge!"

"Why didn't you?"

"They snuck up on me."

"As will all your enemies—the smart ones, at least. If you wish to remain unharmed you should improve your evasiveness."

Even as she spoke this she saw that the blast had hardly damaged Roxas. He was stunned and that was all. If it had been Dexné she'd likely have sustained bleeding, a possible concussion, flash blindness—just to name a few. And it drudged up nervousness that Roxas had taken it with nothing to show but stupor, made Dexné wary of him.

"And how am I supposed to…" He started, then gaped as if he had just realized something obvious. "You're offering to teach me?"

Dexné blinked flinchingly like her face had been spit in. How in the world did he get that conclusion? All of her was ready to hiss a venomous _No_ when suddenly all thought stopped and rebooted into a different strain entirely.

Standing before her was the ward, the…friend…of Axel. If anything happened to him, if a powerful enemy was smart enough to sneak—and weren't all the smart ones powerful?—and strike him down, wouldn't Axel be…sad? It was such a human thought and it startled her.

So startled she was she nodded without thinking.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are much loved! I appreciate every input.  
**


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